New York Minuet
by Au revoir Amour
Summary: Juilliard is a big school, but sometimes it is destiny that two students should meet. Ryan/Kurt
1. Welcome to New York

_Tiniest bit AU in that Kurt and Ryan are both the same age, and the tiniest bit FUTUREFIC because Kurt has graduated from high school. Other than that, I'll try to keep to canon, all right? Also, you might notice that chapter titles are after well-known songs (and I even give you the artist)... I just thought it was appropriate. :) _

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**New York Minuet**

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**1: Welcome to New York (Tim Mahoney) **

The envelope that held the answer to Kurt's prayers was tossed casually aside by his father, into the tiny pile that was Kurt's private mail. He obviously had no idea of the value of that envelope, in all its manila glory. It was stamped _Julliard School, Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts, New York City, USA_.

When Kurt saw it on top of the small stack of letters, his heart felt as though it had risen into his throat. He made an undignified squeak, scooping the envelope into his arms and hugging it to his chest. "Please, please, _please_," he chanted, his usually nimble fingers fumbling with it. Burt walked into the foyer from the kitchen, drying his hands on a dishtowel.

"What's going on?" he asked gruffly as Kurt ripped out the paper inside and unfolded it quickly. He didn't answer immediately, his eyes desperately skimming the page, looking for one precious word.

_Accepted._

"Yes!" He jumped wildly into the air, pumping his fists in delight. Burt gave an amused smile, watching his son dance around the room hugging the letter of acceptance to his chest. "I'm in! I'm _in_!" He was finally getting out. It was finally over. He was finally leaving Lima.

* * *

The school was even bigger than Ryan had imagined, and he gazed at it from across the expanse of lawn wistfully. He had a backpack full of necessities slung over one shoulder, and a pull-along suitcase beside him. His other clothes would be flown in next week, as he wasn't allowed to bring eight suitcases with him on the plane from Albuquerque. The sun was high and glinted magically off the windows, making the whole campus seem to sparkle. He was breathless. It was stunning.

Ryan joined the throngs of people walking towards the dorm sign-ups, and eventually made it to the right table. He was given his room key, and made his way down winding hallways to find his room. The whole place had a musical feel to it; he could hear people singing from other rooms and practicing their instruments. People ran by dressed in costumes covered in feathers or sequins, and Ryan raised a hand in greeting as he passed. When he found his room, he sat down delicately on the edge of his bed and grinned as he heard the person in the next room begin to play a clarinet.

After a moment, he sighed and took off his hat, placing it beside him on the bed. He looked around his room, already envisioning what it would look like once he had his decorator in to see it.

He felt at home.

* * *

Kurt's eyes were wet when he gave his father that last hug before boarding his train. He'd made his last good-byes to everyone else long before, at graduation, and had heard little from anyone since, besides a postcard from Rachel who had gone Broadway immediately after she got her certificate. But this was different. As much as he loved his father, he loved his freedom more, and that meant leaving Lima, perhaps forever.

"I guess I don't have to remind you to change your underwear and brush your teeth, huh?" his father said gruffly, obviously trying hard not to look emotional about his the change in his son's geography. Kurt chuckled, patting him on the shoulder.

"No dad, you don't."

"And I guess I don't have to tell you not to party too hard, right?" He fixed a stern gaze on his son.

"I know, dad." Under his breath he muttered, "_As if I'd risk blowing my only shot_."

They embraced for a quick moment, Kurt burrowing his face into his father's shoulder and inhaling his scent one more time. He wanted to remember the oil and coffee smell, just in case he never came back to Lima. The last warnings were called, and Kurt was forced to board the train, wiping a tear from his cheek onto his expense designer jacket's sleeve. His father raised a hand in good-bye. Kurt mirrored him, resisting the urge to jump up and down waving like an excited child. Even though he _was _excited, very much so.

The train ride was bumpy and he shared a car with a dozen strangers, all of whom were older than he was. He kept smiling at them, but no one said a word to him, and eventually he gave up on trying to socialize. It was going to be a long ride, he decided, so he got out a book on the theory of composition and settled down in his seat against the window to set about reading it.

He finished that book and two others before the train shuttered to a halt at his stop. He bounded out of the train as soon as the doors were open, savouring his first breath of New York air as though he had been drowning all his life. He swung himself around in a circle with his arms spread wide, not caring about the odd looks he was getting from the people around him. "Hello, New York," he said quite loudly before running to gather his luggage.

This, right here, was _his_ city, _his_ moment. _Welcome to New York._


	2. Good Morning, Sunshine

**2: Good Morning Sunshine (Aqua)**

Kurt had never been a morning person, in any sense of the word. It sometimes took him three hits of the snooze button just to wake himself up enough to haul his tired body out of bed. The first morning of classes was the same as every other morning, and he had to push himself out of bed, in spite of his boiling excitement. Why, after four years of having to wake up at six in the morning for high school, had he picked an eight o'clock class?

He groaned and forced himself to get ready, his mind still asleep. He was a walking zombie as he stumbled around the half-lit, unfamiliar dorm room, and he thanked the heavens he had chosen a single room, rather than have a roommate to potentially trip over.

He was still rubbing his eyes and yawning as he strode purposefully across the courtyard between the residential hall and the lecture building. He was stuck with two choices— an elevator or a staircase. In his exploration of the campus the day before, he had chosen to take the elevator and planned his route accordingly, but he was so tired he figured the best way to wake up would be to take the stairs. It was only three floors, after all.

He started by climbing the stairs one-by-one, letting himself enjoy the experience. But he watched his feet and began to jog on the second flight of stairs, and by the third, he was panting. He was almost at the top when he suddenly hit something— or rather, _somebody_— and had to grab the railing for support so as not to fall down the stairs.

"Dammit," that somebody cursed in a voice that suggested they'd had the wind knocked out of them. "Sorry, sweetheart. Are you all right?"

Kurt looked up in surprise at being called 'sweetheart,' but the retort he had planned on giving to this careless person died on his tongue at the sight of him. He was tall, blonde and blue-eyed, dressed impeccably in a pair of fitted white pants, red button-down shirt with the top three buttons undone and a white jacket. On his head was a white fedora with the red initials 'R.E.' embroidered on the side, set at a jaunty angle to the left.

"Uh..." Kurt paused, trying desperately to think of something intelligent to say. "Yeah, I'm okay." That was the best he could come up with?

"Sorry for bumping into you," continued the blonde young man, as though he hadn't noticed Kurt was having trouble breathing, "I just realised I was on the wrong floor. I'm Ryan, by the way. Ryan Evans." He extended his hand and gave Kurt a sincere smile. His teeth were dazzlingly white.

"Kurt... uh... Kurt Hummel." He'd forgotten his last name for a second there, as he was shaking the taller guy's hand. _Real smooth, buddy,_ he thought, his stomach twisting into a tight knot.

It was just moments after Ryan said, "Pleased to meet you," that he was calling "See you around, huh?" over his shoulder and hurrying down the stairs.

Kurt took a moment to compose himself before he followed suit and climbed the last few steps to the third-floor landing, exiting the stairwell as his confident stride returned. He found his class easily and settled into a seat near the front, removing a notebook from his bag and preparing to take notes.

As Professor McNally began to drone about musical theory, Kurt found his mind wandering to a cute young man with blue eyes and good taste in clothes. He was gorgeous. Kurt wondered for a moment if Ryan could possibly be gay, but it seemed like a stretch. No guy that good-looking ever turned out to be gay. It was like a law of physics, or something. And he sure as Hell didn't want to set himself up for another one-sided relationship. Having been told off by Finn for his affections was hard enough. He wasn't about to do that to himself again. No way.

* * *

Ryan's first choreography class went exceptionally well, once he managed to find his way to it. There were only seven others in it, besides him and the professor, who was a wonderfully skilled ex-Broadway choreographer. She had great form, and went on to talk of her time with ballet, and how levels and variety in movement can make or break a piece. He was alert and listening to every word, engrossed in the subject as much as humanly possible.

When the class was let out, he felt almost disappointed that he couldn't learn more from her that day.

"Where did you study before Julliard?" asked a small, British dancer with a thick accent. Ryan remembered that her name was Lillian from when they introduced themselves at the start of class. She was pretty, with curly brown hair and brown eyes, and a short but thin frame. She had the posture of an experienced dancer.

"I'm an East High Wildcat," Ryan replied proudly, and Lillian's face fell.

"I'm sorry, you're a what?" she seemed distraught not to have heard of what she thought must be some prestigious American dance academy.

Ryan pretended to be insulted for a moment, then went on to tell her about East High in great length as they walked together out of the building and across an expanse of lawn. They found a tree and sat against it, inquiring about each other's lives before Julliard and interests. Ryan was just happy to have made a friend so quickly, having not known anyone but Kelsi, who was a whole half-mile away on the other side of campus, studying music.

When he declared himself hungry, they went for lunch. They seemed to get on well, and he soon discovered that her dorm room was just down the hall from his.

It was only much later, as he sat at his newly-installed vanity that he remembered the boy he had nearly knocked-over on his rush to get to class. The kid seemed far too young to attend Julliard, though he could have just been small for his age. Either way, Ryan half-hoped to see him again; making friends had never been his strong suit, but hopefully he could reinvent himself enough in New York to do that. No one knew him here. No one knew that he had been picked on his whole life for his love of dance. No one could stop him from being who he was supposed to be anymore. No one.


	3. Let the Music Do the Talking

_Sorry if I get any of the technical parts wrong, as I know absolutely nothing about music. I apologise in advance if my mistakes in any way impede your ability to enjoy my story. Feel free to point them out, and I will correct them if I can. Merci beaucoup, mon amis!_

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**3: ****Let the Music Do the Talking**** (****Aerosmith****)**

Ryan felt as if was flying. In actuality, he was dancing; the music a soft melody that continuously swung with deep notes and flew with high harmonies. He hummed slowly to himself, his body free of any stress as he flung it carelessly around the practice stage, his eyes closing unconsciously.

"_Fly with me, to a world, where no one's ever been before, and you know_," he sung slowly, drawing out the words longer than the music held them for, "_It will just be you and me there_." He jumped lazily, spinning himself in a low circle as he landed, almost haphazardly tossing about his limbs in an unpractised warm-up.

His breathing stayed even as he bent his body in nearly impossible ways, ending with a flourish and a bow at his imaginary audience. Except, as he opened his eyes he realised, his audience wasn't imaginary. He had opened his eyes only to see a very real Lillian with one hand on her hip, smiling at him. She climbed the four steps onto the stage when he smiled at her.

"I thought you were going to wait for me?" she demanded jokingly, tossing her bag onto the piano bench and crossing her arms. She may have been a wonderful dancer, but actress she was not. Her stern look was punctuated with bouts of irrepressible smiling, her look of anger so flimsy it was falling apart without a nudge.

"I _did_ wait, for nearly half an hour, in fact. Where have you been?" His acting was much better, and Lillian's brow creased in concern at his serious tone. But the laugh that followed his well-delivered lines made her frown disappear, and she gave him a quick hug before rushing to the boom box set atop the piano lid.

"I got caught by my Musical Theatre course professor using his office to practice my lines in. He was quite mad, I'm telling you." She fiddled with the buttons until she found the right track, pressing play and holding out her hand to Ryan. "Care to dance?" she asked, and he bowed gracefully before taking her hand and swinging her into a beautifully choreographed waltz.

The elegant promenade had been choreographed by Ryan himself for a dance competition long ago he had entered with Sharpay, and he had taught it to Lillian for the sake of practice and, of course, because she asked him to teach her to waltz. Her ballet was extraordinary, but her partner-dancing left more than a little to be desired.

"Three beats, not four," he reminded her gently, using a hand on her hip to guide her through the steps. "One, two, three; one, two, three..." She giggled, stepping on his toes purposefully just to try and get him off-beat. He twirled her into an unexpected dip as pay-back, causing her to squeal for fear of being dropped.

"Trust me," he whispered, and then dipped her again, more slowly. She relaxed, and he brought her back up. "See, was that so hard?"

* * *

Kurt pressed his year to another practice room door, listening hard. He heard a soft giggle and a long groan, and quickly stepped away from it. That one was _definitely_ occupied as well. For a school with so many rooms made for practicing, it was hard to find a room to practice in. He clutched his music to his chest and leaned toward the next door, his ears listening for the sound of music. He heard none.

With a sigh of satisfaction and a grin, he opened the door only to find the room not as empty as he had hoped. He sighed again, this time with anger. Why was it so hard to find an unoccupied room?

He was about to turn around and leave quietly when he got a look of the male occupant's face; it was the young man he had bumped into in the stairwell. He had to refrain from sighing a third time as he regarded the way he was holding the female occupant; she was obviously his girlfriend. He had been right. Ryan was straight.

Their waltz ended, the music coming to a close. The melody emanating from the boom box had been so faint he could hardly hear it, but its final note was a high-pitched violin note he recognised as a high-F. This was when the female occupant noticed him, her brow creasing.

"I'm sorry, can we help you?" she asked; her voice was seemingly loud in the small room.

"Oh, no, sorry; I was just looking for a free room. My apologies," Kurt said quickly, gathering his wits and turning to leave.

"Wait, do I know you?" Ryan asked, looking over the well-dressed young man and searching his memory for the moment in time when he had last seen him. "Are you in one of my classes?"

"We met in the seminar building, on the stairs," Kurt corrected, blushing a little and wishing he hadn't.

Ryan nodded. "Ah, yes. I remember now," he murmured as he turned to his companion, "Lillian, this is Kurt. Hummel, was it?" He didn't wait for Kurt to answer before continuing. "Kurt, this is Lillian Harper. She's come here from England to study dance."

Kurt meekly climbed onto the stage, shifting slightly so that his sheet music was under one arm. He took her hand and shook it lightly, as it was so small he feared breaking it. "Pleased to meet you," he said cordially, giving her a small smile.

She grumbled an unconvincing, "Likewise," before pulling her hand away and turning her attention back to Ryan. "Are we going to do it again? Or are we finished?"

Kurt, who felt as though Ryan and invited him into the conversation, asked, "What are you working on?" He directed the question to Ryan, not Lillian, for he had reason to believe (from her demeanour) that she already did not like him. Ryan grinned.

"It's a just a slow waltz, actually, to get Lilly used to a partner. What is that you've got there?" He gestured to the music Kurt had tucked under his arm. It was Kurt's turn to grin. He loved talking about his music.

"It's a piece I'm writing for a friend of mine," he explained pulling the half-finished sheet music from under his arm and offering it to Ryan. "Care to read it over for me?" He was pushing it, he knew; Ryan was probably expecting him to leave as soon as he had introduced him to his girlfriend.

"I'd love to," Ryan agreed, taking the music from Kurt and scanning the front page. Kurt was shocked, and so was Lillian. It seemed that she did not like being ignored very much. She gave a large huff of annoyance that reminded Kurt vaguely of one of Rachel Berry's tantrums.

"But _Ryan_, I thought we were going to practice the—" She was cut off by Ryan shushing her, putting a finger to his lips for a moment before flipping to the next page. Kurt had to refrain from smirking at her; apparently music mattered more to Ryan than Lillian did, and she had just realised it.

Ryan, lost in thought, walked slowly over to the piano, swaying in time with imaginary music. He sat down on the bench and set the sheet music in front of him, humming and placing long fingers on the keyboard, slowly moving them to correspond to the notes scribbled almost illegibly on the page. Kurt had never heard anyone but himself sing his half-finished masterpiece, but it sounded better, in Kurt's opinion, being sung by Ryan's slightly deeper voice.

"_Because it's only you, and no one else, who makes me—_" He paused, moving his fingers down a ways on the keyboard and pressing a different sequence of keys. "_Who makes me feel like this—_" He paused again, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. This was the place that Kurt had been stuck on, because no matter how he worked it, the flow of the music would be disrupted.

"It's wonderful, until you get to the bridge here," Ryan pointed out, biting his lip again and running his index finger along the awkward notes. "Something seems... off about it." Kurt nodded, hovering over Ryan's shoulder.

"I know. That's what I came here to work on!"

As the boys prattled on about the music, Lillian was slowly running out of patience. She glared jealously at Kurt, who had now slid onto the piano bench next to Ryan, _her Ryan_. While not official, she had decided that she had some claim to the boy, and this queer was not going to try and steal him away from her. Ryan was _hers_; or, at the very least, going to be hers.

"Ryan, weren't you going to show me—" She was once again shushed, this time by both boys. Neither even bothered to turn and look at her as they did so. She let out an exasperated sigh, tapping her high-heeled toe on the ground impatiently and crossing her arms.

"Honestly, Ryan, could we just—" They didn't even hear her. Arms were failing and ideas spilling forth like water from a broken dam, and she was just lost in the commotion. Eventually, she gave up, mumbling an angry goodbye before turning on her heel and walking out the door.

It was some time later, after both boys decided that it might be best just to get rid of the section all together and just go to the chorus, that they noticed Lillian's absence.

"Did she say anything to you about leaving?" Ryan asked quizzically as he stood up from the bench and looked around the empty stage, perplexed. "We were supposed to finish our workout together."

"If she said anything, I didn't hear it," Kurt concluded, gathering up his papers.

"Well, that was rude of her," Ryan said, clicking his tongue. Kurt agreed and thanked Ryan for his help, to which he answered, "No problem, friend." Before gathering up his own things from a chair and pulling on a jacket. "I have class, but maybe we could work together again sometime?"

"I would love to!" Kurt hastily replied, hating himself for seeming so eager, but not being able to help it. Whether or not he wanted to, he felt himself developing a small crush on the dancer.

Ryan seemed not to notice his exuberance, or perhaps he just over-looked it as they exited the practice room together. Either way, Kurt knew he was screwed. _Falling for yet another guy who's taken_, he chided himself, _what are you thinking?_

They parted ways at the end of the corridor, promising to meet again sometime in the future. Kurt walked sluggishly back to his dorm room, whilst Ryan scurried off in the direction of he and Lillian's favourite on-campus coffee shop, hoping to find her there. He did not find her, however, but did buy himself a newspaper and tried to enjoy the rest of the evening doing the crossword. Neither could keep their mind off the other, and each were wondering the same thing; could he maybe, quite possibly, be interested? Events had been set in motion, and neither knew how things would end.


	4. Is It a Dream?

_I would briefly like to thank everyone who has reviewed so far, for I am enjoying all your feedback. To answer some questions: No, Rachel is not a student at Julliard, though she is in New York, happily performing on Broadway. I might give Kelsi a small appearance soon, but will not be focussing on her too much. Sharpay may show up eventually, too, and maybe Finn will show his face if I can work it in. I hope to make this a successful story, so I encourage all of my readers to give me feedback: Hit that review button please, and tell me what you'd like to see happen. I may even change my own ideas if I hear one that's better. :)  
PS- I actually was planning on do a _Defying Gravity_ scene, but it was a little later in the plot. But I think it'd be alright to do it earlier than I planned, just for you, _Goddess of the Black Rose_, though I'm not sure if this was what you had in mind or not._

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**4: Is It a Dream? (Classix Nouveaux)**

Kurt was enjoying his time at Julliard. Though he loved all his classes, his Musical Theatre course was the most exciting. It was filled with several unusual characters, including a lovely young French woman named Hélène who could not speak English for the life of her, but could sing Mimi's part in _Without You_ from Rent as though her heart depended on it. Kurt was pretty sure she didn't understand a word of what she was singing, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

He loved this class especially for other reasons. He felt welcome among them, and more importantly, he felt _needed _by the group. Whether Chantal was fighting with Amelia again and they needed someone to mediate, or Yvonne and Michael had broken up (again) and one or the other needed consoling, it was always the smallest member of the group that they looked to for help. Occasionally Jackson would ask him for fashion advice, and that was when he especially excelled— besides when he was singing, of course.

Perhaps the most wonderful thing about Musical Theatre was, well, the theatre. The class was held on one of the larger performance stages, and Kurt nearly died of shock when the professor told them that they could use the stage whenever they wanted to practice something for the class. The stage was wonderful, and large; it looked out onto a gymnasium-sized audience, complete with rows of seats for on-lookers. It was the stage that they used to perform for parents and critics, to announce awards and even have their yearly graduation ceremony. Though it wasn't much to the average person, it Kurt it was a dream come true. This was the stage he was born to perform on. This was it, his moment.

He came early for class the day after his impromptu meeting with Ryan, wanting to be alone on the stage for a while. He walked into his imaginary center spotlight— and he could almost feel the heat on it beaming down on him, his fantasy felt so real. He could see himself performing his unfinished masterpiece, and he could see Finn in the audience, just as he did in all his fantasies. In all of these dreams, he was always singing to Finn.

He looked around to make sure no one had entered while he had been distracted, and then slowly began to sing one of his favourite songs.

"_Something has changed within me. Something is not the same. I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game_," he sang, hitting every note the way he knew he could. As his confidence grew and he really began to belt it out, something in the fantasy changed; it was no longer Finn sitting alone in the audience, but Ryan. He was smiling, and his white fedora was perched atop his head at the same jaunty angle it had been when they first met. Kurt sighed and closed his eyes, feeling the words.

"_It's too late for second-guessing; too late to go back to sleep. It's time to trust my instincts. Close my eyes and leap!_" He took a step forward and reached out to dream-Ryan, extending his arm toward the audience. "_It's time to try, defying gravity. I think I'll try, defying gravity. Kiss me goodbye, I'm defying gravity. And you won't bring me down!_" He brought his arm back to his body, curling his fingers into a fist and holding it close to his chest, over his heart.

"_I'm through accepting limits, 'cause someone says they're so. Some things I cannot change, but till I try, I'll never know. Too long I've been afraid of losing love, I guess I've lost. Well, if that's love, it comes at much too high a cost!_" Eyes still closed and lost in the music, Kurt straightened to his full height of five-foot-seven and began to nearly cry with all the emotion he was putting out. "_I'd sooner buy, defying gravity. Kiss me goodbye, I'm defying gravity. I think I'll try defying gravity. And you won't bring me down!_"

Kurt opened his eyes with a sudden freedom. What he saw was still an empty auditorium, but it held so much more meaning to him now. He inhaled a deep breath to finish the song with the final chorus, but the sound of clapping stopped him from doing so.

He spun around, his heart racing rapidly. He flushed bright red when he realised that his _entire_ Musical Theatre class, including their professor, had somehow managed to sneak in during his performance without him noticing. They were all clapping for him, except the teacher. He shushed them.

"Now, now, let him finish," he said loudly, "There's another chorus. Go ahead, Mr. Hummel."

Kurt licked him lips and looked apprehensively at his class, who all seemed to be waiting for him to finish the song. He took another deep breath to steady his nerves. _Just like you've practiced in your bedroom,_ he reminded himself, and began to sing the final notes.

"_I'd sooner buy, defying gravity,_" he sang slowly, carefully. "_Kiss me goodbye, I'm defying gravity._" He had never sung this part correctly for an audience before. His heart was racing, but he pushed onward. "_I think I'll try, defying gravity. And never bring me down!_" He hit the high-F with stunning accuracy, internally smiling at himself. "_Bring me down. Ooh-oh-oh!_"

His peers gave him a second, louder round of applause before coming up to greet him.

"_C'est très bien__, Monsieur_," Hélène said, being the first to meet him. She smiled, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "_Où as-tu écouté cette chanson__?_"

"Does anyone ever know what she's saying?" whispered Michael sullenly, looking at Hélène as though she were some kind of strange creature. "Any translators in the house?"

"She asked where he'd heard the song," Yvonne said, glaring at Michael. "And I want to know too. I haven't heard it before."

"It's from Wicked," Chantal was quick to point out, "And it's sung by Elphaba, one of the female leads."

"I have to admit," Professor DiBucci said, approaching Kurt through the small cluster of students around him, "I haven't heard a male rendition of that song before. Have you considered it for your final performance piece for this course?"

Kurt lit up visibly, his eyes widening a little. "Actually, I hadn't."

"Well, maybe you should. It's very nice." Professor DiBucci paused, looking at his students carefully. "Now!" he barked, and they all jumped. "Why are we all standing around? We have work to do, people! Snap, snap, let's at it!"

Kurt grinned as he walked through the halls some hours later, reflecting on his Musical Theatre class. He had never felt so comfortable on a stage than he was on that one, and that was saying a lot. He'd been performing for as long as he could remember, but that moment, hitting that high-F for a group of his equals... it had felt amazing.

He could spend the rest of his life chasing that feeling and never catch it. But he caught it that day, that moment, on that stage. It hardly felt real.


	5. A Woman in Love

**5: A Woman in Love (Barbra Streisand)**

Ryan smiled as he passed a couple holding hands in the hallway; he loves how free it is at Julliard. The aforementioned couple were two good-looking guys, one of whom was in Modern Dance with Ryan. He might have introduced himself, but Ryan was better with faces than with names, and could've forgotten it. They looked so happy. Ryan sighed.

The girl in the dorm room next to his (whom he had dubbed "Clarinet Girl" for lack of proper introduction) passed him in the hall on her way to dinner. He nodded in her direction, and she gave him a small smile in return. He had a feeling she was shy.

He'd met a lot of people since coming to Julliard, and many he already considered to be friends. Lillian, for example, had been very helpful in teaching him the ropes and showing him around; she was a year older than he was, and extremely intelligent. For some reason she seemed to take the place of Sharpay in his day-to-day life, minus the constant ordering him around that he'd grown used to.

Kelsi, on the other hand, had yet to do more than say "Hi," to him once or twice when they bumped into each other around campus. He felt slightly hurt, knowing that someone whom he had considered a good friend was now abandoning him. He wished he could spend more time with her. That was his mission today.

He found her without too much trouble, as she kept to her dorm room when she wasn't in class. He could hear the sound of piano playing and wondered how on Earth she'd managed to fit on in her room without losing the space meant for a bed. He raised my hand and knocked.

The piano music continued to play as Kelsi opened the door, and Ryan realised it was only a recording of her playing. The melody was one he recognised, and when the singing began, he recognised the voices. It was a Troy and Gabriella song, and it made him feel terribly homesick.

"Ryan?" Kelsi asked, bewildered. She looked at him a moment before asking, "What are you doing here?"

"I... came to see you?" Ryan was suddenly apprehensive. Kelsi had always been his friend. He could tell when something was wrong. And something definitely seemed _off_ about her. "Are you alright? You haven't called in a while and I just thought—"

"I'm fine," she snapped, looking disgruntled. After a moment, her expression softened, and she rubbed at her eyes with both of her sleeves. "I'm sorry, Ryan. I've just been really busy."

It was then he noticed the dark circles under her eyes, and how much smaller she seemed to have become. Kelsi hadn't looked like this in high school; she was now pale and sickly looking, and her hair was unkempt and unruly. Ryan paused, biting his lip.

"Are you really okay?" he asked, "I mean, seriously. You look... well, awful."

Kelsi scoffed. "Thanks so much for the honesty," she said facetiously. "That's exactly what every girl wants to hear!" Ryan grinned.

"May I come in?"

"I guess so." She turned herself sideways and he squeezed past her, noticing how undeniably thin she'd gotten. "I'm sorry I haven't called or anything," she said after closing the door, motioning for him to sit down in the only chair, sitting at her lonely desk. She herself flopped onto the bed, pulling her pillow to her chest. "I'm taking three extra courses and a night class, and I'm teaching piano to a friend in my spare time, so... I have none left over."

"Oh, _Kelsi_," Ryan said sympathetically, "You're overworking yourself. Geez, no wonder you look so ill; have you been sleeping at _all_?" When she shook her head no, he sighed and scooted the chair to beside her bed. "You can't push yourself this hard, Kelsi. You're going to kill yourself! When was the last time you _ate_?" He poked her in the rips to prove his point. "You're thinner than arail!"

Kelsi jumped up, her eyes burning. "If I'd known you were just going to rag on me, I wouldn't have invited you in," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him. "I'm _trying_, Ryan. I didn't think college would be this difficult."

"It isn't that hard, if you pace yourself. You said you're taking _four_ extra classes? I don't understand why you haven't fallen over yet. You look exhausted." Ryan stood also, but bent down so as to make eye contact with her. "Eat something, sleep for a while; you'll feel better."

"I can't, I have a paper due tomorrow and a composition due next week and an audition in the morning—"

"You'll work twice as fast after you have some nourishment, at least," he urged, taking her arm and pulling her to the door. "We'll pump you full of coffee and sandwiches, and you'll feel better. C'mon, I'm buying."

Kelsi let herself be persuaded after a while, and soon thereafter they sat across from one another, Kelsi devouring a chicken sandwich and Ryan sipping at a tea. She ate as if she hadn't eaten in weeks, barely bothering to taste the food he repeatedly put in front of her as she filled her stomach. Ryan watched her incredulously, thanking himself for taking the initiative to go see her. If he hadn't, she would have surely passed out on stage during her audition the next day.

When she started slowing down, somewhere around her third sandwich, Ryan thought it alright to talk to her. What he really wanted to do was ask her if she were completely nuts, but he didn't. Instead he asked her who she'd been giving piano lessons to. Her face turned bright pink and her ears burned red at the mention.

"Just a friend," she said after swallowing her mouthful, taking a long drink of coffee to wash it down.

"Must be some friend if you're giving up what little spare time you have to teach him," Ryan prodded, a grin spreading across his face. "Are you sure he's just a friend?" Kelsi's blush seemed to go from the roots of her hair all the way down her neck. She shrugged, putting another large bite in her mouth to avoid answering.

Ryan thought it over, and came to a startling conclusion. "_Please_ tell me you haven't been trying to lose weight for this guy," he almost begged, "He isn't worth it, I'm sure he isn't."

Kelsi rolled her eyes and held up a finger to tell him to wait a moment. She finished chewing and swallowed again, her eyes never leaving his.

"I wasn't trying to do anything," she said, and gave a huff at his unbelieving stare. "Honestly! I just haven't had time to eat... or sleep... or really do anything but work in a week or two. Well, I mean, I have eaten, just— stop giving me that look!" She smacked his arm. "I'm not going psycho-anorexic on you, okay? I swear."

"But you do like this guy you're tutoring?"

Kelsi sighed. "Yeah, Ryan, I like him, okay? But I'm not stupid. I wouldn't try to change myself for anybody. I've just been majorly overworked."

"You _think_?" Ryan playfully pushed her shoulder, and she smiled.

He walked her back to her dorm when she had finished eating, and before they parted ways, he gave her a look.

"I'll try to sleep more," she promised. "And to eat when I'm hungry."

"That's my girl." He gave her a hug. "And you'd better, because you know I'll check up on you." She laughed and let herself into her room. He wished her a goodnight, as it was now nearly eight, and he hoped that she would try to go to sleep soon.

* * *

"Poor girl," Lillian said sympathetically after Ryan told her the story of the day's events. She was happily stretched out on Ryan's bed next to him with several books open around them. "I could barely function after taking _one_ extra class last year; I can't imagine why she thought she could handle four. That's academic suicide!"

Ryan nodded, absently chewing the end of his pen. "Absolutely. I can only pray she takes my advice and drops a couple. She can't do it all; it's breaking her." He sighed and rubbed his chin, blankly staring at a textbook. "Is _The Merchant of Venice_ a Shakespearean play?"

"Yes."

There was a long pause in which the pair read silently from their books, and all that could be heard in the small dorm room was breathing and the turning of pages. Lillian was the first to look up from her text, silently regarding Ryan. He was posed in what she could only describe as a seductive way, lying on one said with his right hip toward the sky. He had never look more gorgeous to her than when he bit his lip in concentration and practically pressed his nose into his textbook, his eyes following the tiny print on the page. She licked her lips. This was it; her opportunity had arisen.

"Ryan," Lillian said in what she hoped was a sexy voice, closing her book and pushing it aside. He looked up at her, his eyes slightly unfocussed. He was beautiful.

She took a deep breath, and pounced.


	6. Don't Stand So Close To Me

_Thanks so much everyone for reviewing; it makes me very happy!! By the way, if any of you have any suggestions about what you think should happen to our boys, let me know in your reviews, because I only have a vague idea of what's going to happen here, and mostly I'm just flying by the seat of my pants. Lol. :)_

* * *

**6: Don't Stand So Close to Me (The Police)**

There was no time to react.

Ryan found himself suddenly beneath a warm body with warm lips pressed furiously to his own in what he expected would be a heated kiss to any other man. He tensed, blinking rapidly. What did she think she was _doing_?

It got to the point that she was pressing her tongue against his lips until he finally did something to stop the intrusion, for he was stunned into frozenness.

Ryan's movements were slow and mechanical as he put one hand on each of her shoulders and pushed her backward. She opened her eyes and looked at him, her lips jutted outward, hoping for him to reciprocate and kiss her back. He didn't.

Slowly, he silently manoeuvred out from under her body, which was draped over his in an attempt for closeness. He scooted to the other side of the bed and just looked at her a while, sitting there and not saying anything.

Lillian's heartbeat sounded so loud to her in the following silence it was nearly deafening. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out; they stared at each other, both too stunned to do anything. Ryan was the first to speak.

"Lillian," he said carefully, looking her in the eyes, "If I did anything to lead you on, I apologise, but I really just don't... _like _you in that way."

Emotions flew across Lillian's face in a blur— sadness, hurt, anger and then a sort of neutral acceptance flashed across her face in quick succession, finishing with the acceptance. Her eyes still looked sad, even as she took a deep breath and looked away from him.

"Oh," she squeaked, barely managing to hide her shock. Everything had been going so well! "I— sorry, Ryan, I must have misinterpreted..."

"I didn't mean to send you mixed signals, I just— I figured you knew—" He paused. "Everybody usually just figures it out on their own. I just assumed..."

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about," Lillian cut off his explanation, looking up from where she had been examining her fingernails and looking at him. She had a sinking feeling that she _did _know to what he was referring to, but she didn't want to believe it.

"That I'm, well... gay."

Had hadn't ever needed to tell anyone before; those around him who mattered to him any always just seemed to know automatically, from the way he walked or talked or dressed or danced or whatever. Those who didn't matter often criticised him for it, and he used to deny it in high school, but it was always there, always noticeable. That someone had not seen it right away was somehow comforting, but it made him feel awful for not telling her outright. He felt horrible for accidently leading her to believe he could ever have feelings for her, when the truth was, he couldn't.

"But..." Lillian couldn't help thinking back to their many waltz practices, how he had held her so surely and close, kissing her on the forehead when they parted. He always seemed to be touching her; patting her on the knee, tucking her hair behind her ear, guiding her through dance steps. How could all have that been plutonic? "You always acted like... like you_ liked_ me."

"I do like you. Just not romantically, I suppose; you're a very nice person, and remind me of all the good qualities in my sister. But if I were to ever love you, it would _only _like that: like a sister."

Lillian had to bite back a furious retort; she should have done better research. How much time had she wasted pursuing a gay guy? Weeks! Weeks wasted in her life-plan. How on earth could she start over, find someone new and get them to fall in love with her before the end of her sophomore year at Juilliard? Nothing seemed to be going her way.

"I understand," she said meekly, though on the inside she was fuming. Weeks, wasted! Weeks spent getting to know his likes and dislikes, his talents and interests. How stupid of her. She should have asked him upfront if he would like to be in a relationship with her. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"It's kind of late... I guess I'd better get going."

Ryan bid her farewell as she made her exit, an almost permanent look of regret on his face. When she was gone, he busied himself by trying finish his essay alone, trying to forget about the unfortunate incident that had just occurred.

He hoped they could salvage their friendship, and he hoped that he hadn't messed up too badly by not coming out to her right away. He couldn't concentrate on the work in front of him. He needed Lillian's expertise! The sigh that followed this epiphany was probably loud enough to wake anyone sleeping in the dorm next door.

Books were quickly put away once Ryan realised that he couldn't finish all of this work on his own, and he ended up sitting at his vanity staring at himself in the mirror.

Did he not _look_ gay anymore? Sure, his taste in brightly-coloured clothing had subsided a little since graduation, and he no longer had his sister to coordinate his outfits so that they expertly matched hers on any particular day, but had his look changed so drastically that he no longer looked like himself?

Ryan would have to consult his sister in the morning, he decided, upon what could be done to make his wardrobe reflect him once more. His toned-down university style obviously didn't— or else this never would have happened in the first place.


	7. The Two of Us

_For those who don't know, there is a Kurt/Ryan group on Facebook:  
__**www . facebook . com /#!/ group . php?gid=326399287512&ref=ts**__ (Take out the spaces.)  
I just thought I'd tell those of you who didn't know about it yet. It and some wonderful videos of them on YouTube were what inspired me to write this story. :)_

* * *

**7: The Two of Us (The Beatles)**

Ryan's twin had little to say on the subject in the morning except "_Just wear your pink pants again, silly,_" before she went off on a rant about Zeke burning a soufflé and stinking up her kitchen. Zeke, of course, had been more distressed over the loss of his precious pastry rather than the resulting foul odour, which only made Sharpay angrier.

"_I had to therapy shop all afternoon to calm down. Luckily Zeke had everything cleaned up when I returned, or else I would have ripped his head off. On the upside, though, I got this pair of shoes— you won't _believe_ how cute they are, seriously._"

"I bet they're adorable, Sharpay—"

"_Oh, they _are_! You have to see them! I'll email you a picture..._"

"Gee, thanks, Sharpay, because that'll just solve all my problems," Ryan replied sarcastically, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He heard her inhale sharply over the phone, and quickly changed the subject so as to avoid a lecture on the importance of cute shoes. "I have work to do, so I've got to get going. Tell Mumsy and Father that I love them, alright?"

Sharpay bid her brother a quick farewell, knowing that she would not get any more good conversation from him, since he would be concentrating on his work and not on her. She knew full well by his voice that there was more going on at Juilliard than he was telling her, and she vowed to interrogate him the next time they saw each other in person.

Ryan felt slightly deflated after his phone call to his sister. He missed her dearly, and her substitute— Lillian— was nowhere to be found since the night before. He felt extremely lonely, and even considered bothering Kelsi with his problems; though she was so busy nowadays that she probably wouldn't even be able to fit him into her schedule.

He made a quick decision, riffling around his room to look for the slip of paper that Kurt had given him after their impromptu music revision. He found it and dialled before he had a chance to rethink it; he was lonely, and needed a friend.

It rang for only a moment before the smaller boy answered with a quirky greeting of, "This is Kurt's phone; may I inquire as to who is calling me?"

Ryan laughed and identified himself. "Would you like to meet me for coffee?" he asked impulsively. Kurt said yes.

--

Kurt was a bundle of nerves as he walked as calmly as he could to the little coffee place Ryan had described. He'd never actually been in the place before, and was surprised at how _homey_ the place was. It had cream-coloured walls with chocolate-coloured trim, dark wood floors with a seating area defined with a plush cream rug. The chairs were all wood, and few of them matched; the tables were different heights, and the whole décor seemed to be based off of coordinating but slightly different sets of furniture. It was bright, illuminated by white paper lanterns along the counter at one end, and a single lit candle on every table. Kurt loved it; it was a place that he felt extremely secure.

He settled himself at a table with a good view of the door, unconsciously checking his watch. It had only been seven minutes since Ryan's call, and Ryan had said to meet him in fifteen. Kurt relaxed a little running his hands through his hair and wishing he had gelled it. He had rushed out of his dorm and to the coffee shop as soon as he had gotten Ryan's call, for no better reason than he was excited. He hadn't given any thought to his appearance, but hoped that his blue turtleneck sweater and casual dark jeans would be appropriate for the situation.

_Why are you so worried about what you look like?_ A little voice in his head yelled._ He's straight. He has a girl friend. He doesn't like you..._ Both Kurt's heart and head stopped working when Ryan walked through the door. _Or, not._ The little voice said, stunned.

Ryan, who before had appeared to be the most well-dressed straight guy in the room, now seemed to have visibly switched teams. He wore a pair of skin-tight, hot-pink pants, a black and white striped button-down shirt with the top three buttons undone and a pink fedora on his head that had the emblem of a well-known cartoon character printed on its side; _Hello Kitty_.

_If people didn't know I was gay before, they sure do know, _Ryan thought smugly, spotting Kurt and smiling at him. Kurt waved lamely, entranced by the young man approaching him with a grin on his face.

"Hi, Kurt," Ryan said, taking the seat opposite him. Kurt smiled shyly.

"Hi." He paused, once again trying to come up with something intelligent to talk about. He decided to go for smug indifference; play it cool. "Nice hat you've got there. Very... flamboyant."

Ryan's grin got wider. "Why, thank you," he said, touching the brim of his hat lovingly. "I hadn't had a chance to wear it yet in New York, but I absolutely _adore_ this one." He adjusted the angle at which it sat, and then asked for the young woman working to get him a caramel latté with extra foam. "How has your week been? You never took me up on my offer to help you with that song."

"I'm sorry, it slipped my mind. I've been working on something else for my Musical Theatre course."

Ryan smiled, accepting his latté from the young woman, whose nametag read "Jeanne." He sipped it, his lips twitching up into a look of pure enjoyment.

"Ah, Musical Theatre," Ryan said knowing, leaning back in his chair and regarding Kurt with newfound interest. "It's on my next semester's agenda. Is it your major?"

"Yes, actually," Kurt replied, happy that Ryan and he shared a common interest. His crush on the dancer only intensified when the conversation topic turned to show tunes and musicals, and the pair discovered a mutual love for them.

"And Wicked? I _love_ Wicked," Kurt said brightly a good hour later, turning an empty coffee cup around in his hand. He signalled for Jeanne to bring him another as Ryan replied.

"Ah, Wicked. I love Elphaba. Though Glinda sometimes gets on my nerves, especially in The Wizard of Oz movie when she was played by Billie Burke, but her character in general just makes me cringe."

Kurt nodded, accepting his third coffee from Jeanne. "Thanks," he said absently, waving her off and taking a gulp. "I preferred Elphaba as well. _Defying Gravity_ is my all-time favourite song, you know."

Ryan nodded, nursing his own latté distractedly. "It's a wonderful song, but there's that impossible high note at the end. I would have to majorly modify the key in order to sing it myself, but I have heard some beautiful renditions of it." Kurt grinned.

"I can hit that note."

Ryan quirked an eyebrow. "Well, that's a talent. I couldn't go that high even if someone kicked me in the 'nads." Kurt laughed. Ryan shook his head slightly and took a final swig of his drink, pushing the empty cup aside. "I really need to stop drinking so much caffeine. I'm never going to be able to sleep again in I keep this up."

"I can see how easily it would be to get addicted to this place," Kurt agreed, taking a long look around at his surroundings. "It's so... cozy. I could just sit here and drink coffee contently for the rest of my life, I think."

"I couldn't," Ryan countered, smiling mischievously. "I would have to get out to go shopping sometime. I can't live on one outfit. I'd pass-out from fashion deprivation." They shared a good laugh over this, Kurt agreeing that shopping might be the only reason he would want to leave.

"Well, or music," Kurt said after a moment's thought, finishing his own coffee and pulling out his wallet to pay for it. "Though I suppose if they installed a boutique and a stage in here, I'd never leave."

Ryan put his hand out to stop Kurt. "My treat. I invited you here, I'm going to pay for it." He took out his own wallet, which was pink and had a sequinned R.E. on the side, and paid for their drinks, leaving Jeanne a generous tip.

"You didn't have to do that," Kurt complained, stretching his back muscles as he stood up. They'd been sitting there a while. "My dad sends me a generous food allowance. He's convinced I don't eat enough."

Ryan ran an eye over Kurt's thin frame and shrugged. "You look all right to me," he said, and Kurt could've sworn he heard a flirtatious tone to his voice. _Maybe I did_, he thought, looking at Ryan apprehensively. _I was obviously wrong about the guy. No straight man would ever dress like that in a million years._

"Say, I've been working on this project for a class of mine, and I've been having trouble practicing it because there's a female harmony— if you wouldn't mind, maybe you could help me with it? Since you can hit the high notes," Ryan suggested, smiling. "As long as you don't mind singing a girl's part."

Kurt shrugged. "I don't mind. I end up singing the girl parts more often than you'd believe."

"Well, then it's a date. I'll meet you outside the practice rooms in an hour, alright? I have to go grab my music and things."

"Alright," Kurt agreed, his heart fluttering uncontrollably. "It's a date."

_A date!_ The little voice in his head whopped happily as Ryan ran off, waving to Kurt. Kurt raised his hand and headed for his own dorm, determined to fix his hair before meeting with Ryan again. _A date!_


	8. History Never Repeats

**8: History Never Repeats (Split Enz)**

Once Kurt had quaffed his hair into a satisfactory style, he waited for Ryan patiently by the practice rooms. His heart was beating faster than it had in a very long time, and his fingers were sweating as he clutched the strap of his leather book bag. He had brought along some music of his own, hoping to get Ryan's opinion on what he'd done to fix his masterpiece— the song he had written about his failure with Finn.

He didn't have to wait long for Ryan to show up, a CD player held in one hand and a Guess bag in the other. Kurt couldn't deny that the guy had good taste— Guess was expensive, but that bag would totally have been worth it.

They found an empty practice room and Ryan went straight to the piano, placing his CD player on top of it. He dropped his expensive bag onto the bench and began digging through it for the sheet music while Kurt waited apprehensively, perhaps stealing a glance or two at the guy's behind. But he wasn't _staring_, or anything, because that would be weird.

"A few of Professor Capucilli's classes have sort of banded together to put on a show for next week's open-house," Ryan explained as he dropped himself onto the bench and put the music on its stand, "It's just seven short skits, each with a song and dance number— nothing huge, plot-wise, but I'm choreographing two of the dances, so I suppose I should be thrilled."

Ryan motioned for Kurt to sit next to him, and he did, albeit a little delicately. Kurt had as of yet to meet a gay guy who was so interesting and non-stereotypical, and Ryan threw him for a loop. His eyes scanned the music on the stand quickly, sighing with relief after noting that the female lead's part was well within his range. Not that he had been overly worried, as he could hit a high-F if need be, but it was comforting to know he wouldn't embarrass himself in front of Ryan.

"I'm playing the lead in skit number two, and have a small part in number seven, but only as a back-up dancer. I was attempting to practice my lead role earlier and found it impossible to do so without someone doing the female part— which, thank you so much in advance for that, I mean, seriously, I'm grateful."

Kurt murmured a dull, "It's no problem." Butterflies had somehow invaded his stomach and were now battering around inside of him, fluttering their little wings and making him nauseous. Ryan seemed not to notice, opening his CD player with a button and placing a CD carefully inside.

"I thought you'd want to listen to it before we started," Ryan explained, then pushed play. Kurt listened carefully to the female part, mentally noting where the music sped up and slowed down. The harmonies would be a little tricky, but he figured he could manage it alright. It wasn't something he'd heard before, but it had a simple enough melody to pick up on. Ryan offered to play it again, but Kurt said he'd gotten it— so Ryan turned off the player and hovered his hands above the keyboard, studying the sheet music before beginning to play.

Ryan was very good at what he did, Kurt noticed as Ryan's fingers danced across the keys. He watched, intrigued, as Ryan bit his tongue a little in concentration, his eyes never leaving the page. When the intro was finished, Kurt pulled his eyes away from Ryan's face and looked at the music, following the notes and waiting until the right time to sing his part.

"_Moon so bright, night so fine; keep your heart here with mine. Life's a dream worth dreaming_," Ryan began singing, and Kurt was horribly reminded of a similar situation he had been in with Finn, not so long ago. He felt the twinge in his chest he always felt when he was reminded of Finn; Finn, who had rejected his romantic efforts and stomped his heart to pieces, without ever meaning to.

Kurt mentally shook himself of the image. What was history was history. Ryan wasn't Finn and Juilliard wasn't McKinley. _Perhaps history sometimes repeats itself, but it isn't going to now_, Kurt thought, his eyes glued to the music as he began to sing.

"_Race the moon, catch the wind; ride the night to the end. Seize the day, stand up for the light_," Kurt sang, his pitch as perfect as it could be on a first try. He drew out the word for the whole four beats, and then went right into the harmony.

"_I want to spend my lifetime loving you, if that is all in life I ever do_," they sang together, Kurt's soprano tone contrasting nicely with Ryan's tenor. Kurt took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment as it was once again Ryan's part, imagining what the scene Ryan would be staring it would look like opening night.

"_Heroes rise, heroes fall. Rise again, win it all!_"

"_In your heart, can't you feel the glory?_" Kurt began his next part, stealing a sideways glance at Ryan. He seemed really concentrated on his fingers, though the tune was not really all that difficult. "_Through our joy, through our pain—_"

"_We can move worlds again. Take my hand, dance with me_," they harmonised, and Ryan added his overlaying, "_Dance with me_!" at just the right part as Kurt held his _me_ for nine beats.

"_I want to—_" was Kurt's next (very short) solo-part, which quickly faded to a harmony as Ryan joined in on, "_—spend my lifetime loving you, if that is all in life I ever do. I will want nothing else to see me through, if I could spend my lifetime loving you._"

Kurt could see why this would be difficult to sing on one's own. It just wouldn't sound right without a partner.

"_Though we know we will never come again, when there is love, life begins—_" Ryan continued, and Kurt jumped in to harmonise on the following, "_Over and over again!_"

"_Save the night, save the day. Save your love, come what may. Love is worth everything we pay,_" they sang together once more, pulling strong for the final few notes. "_I want to spend my lifetime loving you, if that is all in life I ever do. I want to spend my lifetime loving you, if that is all in life I ever do. I will want nothing else to see me through, if I can spend my life time loving you._"

"_Loving you_," Ryan finished, sighing as his fingers played the last few notes.

When he was done, he looked at Kurt and grinned. "You really can hit that note!" he decided, looking at the shorter boy with newfound admiration. Kurt gave a loud humph, crossing his arms and looking at Ryan in his most Diva-like manor.

"You doubted me?"

"Perhaps." Ryan grinned boyishly, once again revealing his rows of sparklingly white teeth. "Are you any good at dancing? I could use someone to help me go through my steps, too, if you don't mind."

If Kurt didn't know better, he'd say that Ryan was flirting with him. _You don't know better_, the little voice in his head said, _Now get up off your butt and dance with that boy!_ Kurt did what the little voice told him, though he felt a little odd for it. He just hoped that he wasn't going schizophrenic or anything.

"I can dance," Kurt assured Ryan, standing up from the bench and offering Ryan his hand. "Can _you_ dance?"

"I'm a choreography major!" Ryan declared, standing up from the bench himself and taking the offered hand. "Of course I can dance."

Ryan lead Kurt through the unfamiliar steps, and Kurt soon had a pretty good idea of what the finished project would look like. For the final, "_Loving you_," Ryan pulled Kurt close to his chest, and Kurt felt his heart flutter again. The butterflies in his stomach had a field day, battering around inside him happily. When Ryan didn't automatically let him go, he felt himself leaning in toward the warm chest in front of him. Ryan was warm and comfortable. It was a good combination.

"You are really snugly, you know that?" Ryan commented, letting Kurt go. Kurt took a step backwards, blushing furiously.

"Sorry," he apologised quickly, looking down at his shoes. He should have known better than to get so attached so soon.

"It's alright," Ryan comforted him, reaching out and laying a hand on Kurt's shoulder, "It's actually kind of... endearing." He paused for a moment, regarding Kurt with a kind of bemused but interested look. "C'mon, let's try that again. I lost my footing during the second chorus."

They began to dance again, a little more surely this time. For a second Kurt could swear he felt Ryan tracing some pattern on his skin when he held his arm, but as suddenly as the ticklish touches began, they ended. There was a spin somewhere in the middle, and Kurt was so caught up in thinking about how wonderful this was that he tripped and fell into his partner, nearly knocking them both to the floor.

Ryan regained his balance first, less-than-gracefully stumbling and grabbing Kurt by the upper arms so as not to let him fall. There was a moment of panic before Kurt regained his own footing, suddenly nose-to-chest with Ryan's shirt. The Hello Kitty hat had fallen off in this exchange, but neither noticed immediately.

"Are you alright, Sweetheart?" Ryan asked, once again calling Kurt 'sweetheart.' Not that he minded this time around. His heart fluttered in response.

"Um, yeah," he mumbled, looking up at Ryan, wide-eyed. "Sorry. I kind of... tripped over my own feet."

"It happens to the best of us," Ryan concluded, still holding Kurt very close.

Kurt felt like his heart was about to jump out of his chest, it was fluttering so rapidly, and he could barely breathe because Ryan was so close. And he knew that Ryan was well aware of how he was feeling, because the dancer suddenly rolled his body against Kurt's, and for a second, the soprano thought that he was going to go insane. His hands unconsciously attached themselves to Ryan's hips, holding him close.

"For the record," Kurt managed to say breathlessly, looking back up at Ryan with the same wide-eyed expression, "You _are_ flirting with me now, right?"

Ryan just laughed, and then kissed him on the forehead. "Yes, Sweetheart," he concluded, ruffling Kurt's once-perfect hair with one hand, "I am flirting with you."

After a moment, Ryan's hand flew to his head, suddenly realising that his fedora was absent. He bent over to retrieve his fallen hat, and Kurt couldn't help but turn his head sideways and admire the view.

"Good to know," Kurt said with a grin as Ryan perched the hat once again atop his head, adjusting it to a suitable jaunty angle once more. "'Cause if you weren't, I'd be worried."

They laughed, and began the dance again.


	9. What a Wonderful World

**9: What a Wonderful World (Louis Armstrong)**

It was much later, when Kurt sat on his bed and reflected his not-a-date-that-could-quite-possibly-have-been-a-date with Ryan that he realised how nice it had been to be pressed to the taller boy's chest. The butterflies in his stomach had started to behave themselves by the end of their impromptu rehearsal, and he had been able to ask Ryan his opinion on the song that Kurt was working on. Ryan had said it was nice, but suggested some tweaks to make it less of a cliché love story song, and Kurt figured he could work some of the changes in. He stared at his messy sheet music, his pencil tip tapping distractedly on the lap-desk he was working off of.

Mercedes would have given him some good advice right about now. Kurt missed her so much it made his head ache; what does one do when their best friend is six hundred miles away? Could he even _attempt _not to mope?

He sighed angrily and stood, putting his unfinished work on his desk before flopping down again. Oh, how his life was confusing! One minute he was convinced he still hadn't gotten over Finn, his first crush from _years _ago, and the next he's falling for some guy he just met (and he had no one to talk about it with). Kurt didn't know which one was worse— though pining for a straight guy wasn't exactly going to help him any, so he supposed falling for Ryan couldn't hurt. Well, it could hurt, but Ryan didn't seem to be that kind of guy. He was actually rather sweet, and extremely talented and fashionable. He and Kurt had tons in common that he and Finn never had. Maybe that was why this time, it could work.

He ended up scrubbing his face much harder than usual in an attempt to clear his head, but it didn't work. All the skin-care products in the universe couldn't distract him from the lovely face that now seemed to appear every time he closed his eyes; Ryan's face, complete with a saucy grin on it and a white fedora covering his hair. Kurt wondered vaguely what was with all of the hats, as he seemed to be wearing a different one every time they saw each other; then again, fedoras in particular were in this season, so perhaps he was just keeping up with the trends.

The buzzing sound brought his attention back to the real world, and he snatched up his phone, which lie vibrating on his nightstand. He barely glanced at the text before tossing the phone back down and going over to his desk, settling down in his chair and opening his laptop, a grin covering his once dreary expression.

Kurt was amused at how the moment he signed on to MSN he got a request from ChocolateGodess89 for webcam access. He laughed to himself slightly, then accepted, and a small window with Mercedes's face appeared on the screen.

"_Kurt!_" she greeted, a content smile on her features. "_How've you been doing, boy? Is Juilliard treating you well?_" As much as they'd been texting each other, it was different to talk in person. Kurt was glad for the distraction; he had far too much to think about, anyway.

"It is absolutely _fabulous_! Juilliard is the most wonderful school there is, Mercedes. Honestly, I don't know how I even _survived _before New York. Oh, right, that would be _your_ doing." Mercedes took the compliment to heart, and began fanning herself with her hand in her most Diva-like manor.

"_Why, thank you. I'm amazing, right?_"

"Positively wonderful," Kurt said, not letting the sarcasm touch his voice. It did, however, reach his eyes, and Mercedes laughed; over the speaker, her laugh was not nearly as quaint as it was in real life. Kurt found himself missing her even more than he had before their conversation had begun. "How is, well, _everything_?" Mercedes had been keeping the details of her life under wraps all month, and it was beginning to drive Kurt crazy. "Spill, girl."

Mercedes heaved a huge sigh, glaring daggers through the webcam at him. The sigh sounded more like static than anything else, and Kurt made a mental note to get her a better microphone for Christmas, as the once she was using was obviously of horrible quality. He couldn't even imagine trying to record his own singing voice using that thing; it would probably make him sound like Rachel, or some other horrible creature. Ick.

"_Well,_" Mercedes started, drawing out the word like it had several syllables more than it actually did. "_I sort of... met this guy._" Kurt was suddenly more than interested, his eyes light up like a child's on Christmas morning.

"You met a guy? Is he cute? I want details, like, _now_!"

Kurt neglected to tell her that in fact that he, too, had met a guy.

"_His name is Alex, and he's the most _gorgeous_ guy I've ever met. And he has fairly good fashion instincts. Though not as refined as our taste, it's workable. And he's smart— a history major, if you can believe it. Can't keep a tune for more than ten seconds, but I'm attempting to train him._"

"You fell for a _history _major?" Kurt asked numbly, almost giving himself a face-palm at the irony. "You failed history. Twice." Mercedes grinned.

"_I know, we're complete opposites— but we just work together, you know? I guess opposites really _do_ attract._" She paused, looking at him carefully. He had suddenly dived for, and now had his nose buried in, his cell phone, texting like a madman. "_Hellooo, Earth to Kurt! You still with me?_"

He made an affirmative, "Mm," sound, not looking up from his phone until he had finished typing his message. When he had finished entering what must have been an extremely long message, he looked at her with a goofy smile on his face. "Sorry, what was that? Opposites attract?"

She looked at him blankly before placing her hand on her hip and giving him _The Look_. It was a look that he always received when he had either 1) done something wrong, or 2) was hiding important gossip from her. He supposed this time it was the latter of the two options.

"_Who was that?_" she asked accusingly.

"Who was what?" Kurt asked innocently, pretending he didn't know what she was talking about. Ryan's text of "**R U busy later?**" had sent his head spinning. But it was a pleasant kind of spinning, he decided.

"_Whoever just texted you_," Mercedes said, her tone still accusing but her eyes fond and curious. As if on cue, the phone buzzed again with Ryan's reply and Kurt jumped for it, practically singing with glee at the message. "_Seriously, who is that that's gotten you so hot and bothered?_"

"Well, I guess I have a shopping date tomorrow," he said matter-of-factly. It was more to himself than to his best friend, who sat waiting at her computer with a bemused expression on her face. Kurt looked at her and frowned.

"Well," he began, dragging out the word just as she had earlier, deciding to play-mock her in his explanation. "I kind of..." he paused, letting her fluster. "Met a guy?"

Mercedes's squeal of delight was both shrill and annoying, and Kurt had to resist the urge to put his hands over his ears. After she had come down from her momentary high, she grinned at him excitedly. "_Oh, finally!_" she exclaimed. After a second more, she calmed down just enough to demand details (well, '_deets_,' but that's just her way of talking), just as he had upon hearing her news.

"His name is Ryan," Kurt said, as if that told her everything. She looked at him expectantly, wanting more to go off us. "He's... well, a bit of everything, I think. I mean, he's studying dance and majoring in choreography—"

"_So he must be well-built_," Mercedes concluded.

"—but he's also a singer, and apparently an acting 'God,' but I haven't seen him act yet, so I don't know if he was exaggerating." (He put the word 'God' in finger quotes for emphasis.)

"_And talented_," she noted, looking at him for more.

"He's... um..." Kurt had no idea how to describe Ryan. The word _gorgeous_ just didn't seem good enough. "Is there a word that's better than gorgeous?" Mercedes shook her head.

"_Good-looking,_" she agreed, adding it to the mental list.

"And he has good taste— like custom fedoras and Guess bags, good taste." Kurt paused for a second. "And he loves musicals like us. Show tunes are his specialty."

Mercedes clapped enthusiastically. "_Sounds like you've found yourself a stud! When do I get to meet him?_"

"We aren't official or anything," Kurt added quickly, shooting his best friend _The Glare of Death_. "We technically haven't even been on a real date, yet. I just sort of... like him. And he's gay, don't worry, I checked."

Her laugh once again sounded like it had gone through a paper shredder, and Kurt found himself looking at her like he'd never see her again. And maybe, he wouldn't. That thought was seriously depressing. Rachel was closer to him (geographically) than Mercedes was now, since she'd gotten a part on Broadway. Ohio seemed like a billion miles away.

"Hey, um... whatever happens, we're still going to be BFFs, right? Even if..." He paused. "Even if I never went back to Lima?"

Her smile faded a little, but her eyes were still gleaming with happiness at his news. "_Even if you never, ever, step a toe over the Ohio state line again, I will never, ever, stop being your best friend,_" she said slowly. For a moment, Kurt was taken aback. Since when did Mercedes go all serious on him?

She laughed again at his sobered expression, putting up two fingers in a mock-solute. "_Scouts honour_," she pledged, and he grinned. _That_ was more like his best friend for life.

"You've never been a Girl Scout," he accused, which just sent her into hysterics.

"_You're right, I haven't. So, anyway, Alex— he's ogle worthy, seriously, you'd stare. I've got to say, I never thought I'd fall for a studier, but _man_, can Alex study like the _world's ending_ if he doesn't memorise a date in his textbook..._"

She went on to tell him all about Alex, and Kurt listened, nodding at the parts he could and putting a word in when she let him. It was almost like they were their tag-team once more, the unstoppable duo they had once been. Almost. But he still missed her. He was, however, _extremely_ grateful that now that Ryan was around, he had a shopping buddy— or else, what would he have done come sale season?!


	10. The Valley of Malls

_Sorry about the length of this chatper... I went a little overboard, alright? I know very little about fashion, but I did indeed go to each of the mentioned labels' webites to make sure my descriptions of their locations and their wares were at least semi-accurate. This chapter is basically pure fluff, and I had more planned for it... but I got a little carried away as it is, and I'd probably put you all to sleep if I continued, so I stopped it where I did. :)_

* * *

**10: The Valley of Malls (Fountains of Wayne)**

Ryan had chosen his usual shopping outfit, dark skinny jeans that were surprisingly easy to get out of in order to try things on, and a black silk dress shirt. He thought about wearing his black newsboy cap with it, but found that the whole outfit would then look depressing, and opted for a baby-blue fedora instead. Besides the fact that he needed a haircut, he looked completely presentable.

He was unsure of what Kurt was to him at this point; friend, crush, possible-future-boyfriend? He couldn't name it. There was something unique about Kurt that he just adored, right down to his Gucci-clad feet. He wondered vaguely if they were the same shoe size and could share shoes, but thought better of asking about it. The fact that Kurt was undeniably short for his age meant that his shoes size was probably under average as well. Ryan sighed. Those had been some pretty nice shoes.

Ryan gave himself a final once over, deciding he was perfect, but that it would look better to tip his hat the other direction. Once had had done so, he gave the mirror an exaggerated wink, and then grabbed his phone and wallet off the vanity. His wallet was quickly shoved in his back pocket, and the he was already texting before the door had closed behind him.

Kurt, on the other hand, had much more trepidation over what to wear. Would Ryan prefer his Louis Vuitton leather boots or his Gucci loafers? Which watch should he wear? What if their outfits clashed, what would he do then?

Kurt was still fretting over the many choices of his attire when he received Ryan's text. It was a simple question, "**When & where are we meeting?**" but it sent chills down Kurt's spine. He wasn't ready! He'd never be ready! Instead of saying this, however, his reply was simply, "**Courtyard in twenty?**" though his heart was pounding in his chest. Ryan sent an affirmative reply, and Kurt swore he was going to throw up.

He ended up dressing simple: black skinny jeans, a knee-length navy sweater and his Louis Vuitton boots. He tossed a red scarf around his neck last-minute, hoping that he wouldn't be too warm. He tucked his wallet into his pocket then bolted out the door, hoping that if he rushed, he could make it to the courtyard before Ryan and look nonchalant.

No such luck seemed to exist, however, as Ryan was already standing by the fountain when he arrived. When they saw each other, Ryan waved and Kurt raised his hand in greeting, feeling more nervous than he should. It was only shopping, after all. What could go wrong?

Kurt had never been shopping in New York City before. Since the start of classes, he hadn't had much time, and no one to go with; he wasn't so stupid as to try and go on his own and get hopelessly lost. The taxi ride along set him on edge, and he did have a companion this time; if he hadn't had Ryan there, all the sights and sounds and street names and stores would have been even _more_ overwhelming. Luckily, Ryan _had_ been shopping in New York before, several times, in fact.

Ryan had been to New York for several vacations with his family, most of the time to see Broadway plays (he claimed to have seen '_only twenty or so_', but to Kurt, that was an amazing feat in itself), and sometimes strictly for shopping trips.

"Most of my sister's performance costumes are from New York," he explained, "She's a performer too— and a wonderful one at that, but don't tell her I said so." Kurt was sworn to secrecy, though he had no idea why Ryan's love of his sister's performances had to be kept secret. If Kurt had had a talented sibling, he figured he'd tell them how talented they are; he figured that there must be a reason, though, and promised to keep quiet.

The first place they went was Fifth Avenue, starting their search for good taste at Louis Vuitton. Kurt pointed out to Ryan that he was already wearing a pair of their boots— which Ryan approved of happily.

"Very in this season," he complimented, before looking at the shoes they had on display. "I like _those_, don't you?" A pair of white leather loafers with the LV buckle on the front had caught Ryan's eye, and Kurt agreed that they were stunning; though perhaps a little too upscale for a student?

"I wouldn't wear them to school," Ryan said distractedly, taking down the pair and examining them, "I do have other engagements, you know. My father's business parties and such. He always insists I attend... these would go perfectly with the jacket I've already bought..."

Ryan seemed to know even more about fashion than Kurt did, and that was saying a lot. Usually, on shopping excursions, it was Kurt who took control, telling his shopping partner (which was usually either Mercedes or, on occasion, Tina) where they were going and what should or should not be bought. Ryan, however, was a whole other ball game. He knew the city inside and out, and he had impeccable taste; after purchasing the shoes, he insisted that they pop into Prada and see what was new... just because they were in the area.

Kurt found himself highly enjoying the experience of not being in the lead. He let himself be dragged around the Prada store by Ryan, and then into Hugo Boss. There was no pressure for him to do any more than watch Ryan scurry around stores and squeal over new items— which was enjoyable, in itself.

"Are you having fun?" Ryan asked after their exploration of Hugo Boss's new collection was finished. They stood outside the store, the wind strong enough to nearly swipe the hat from Ryan's head. Kurt nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh, absolutely! I love shopping. And it's nice to have a knowledgeable partner-in-crime," Kurt joked, and Ryan seemed to visibly relax.

"Oh, _good_, I thought I was boring you. Most people hate shopping with an Evans. We are all pretty heavy power-shoppers, and I didn't want to... I don't know, be a horrible person and drag you to all my favourite stores just so I don't have to go alone."

"That's alright; you have great taste, by the way."

"Thank you. You seem to have an eye as well, I see." Kurt smiled, and began hailing for a taxi. "If you don't mind me asking," Ryan continued, "What do your parents do?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"What d'you mean?" Kurt asked curiously, intrigued by Ryan's strange question.

"I meant, you know, where do they work? My father owns a bunch of resorts in New Mexico and Colorado. Your family has money, obviously, for you to be able to afford your good taste— where does it come from?" Kurt snickered.

"My dad's a mechanic, actually." That caused Ryan to look at him curiously.

"_Really_? How fascinating. You don't seem the type to be a mechanic's son... no offence."

"None taken. We own the most popular repair shops in Lima," Kurt said conversationally, still trying (unsuccessfully) to hail one of the yellow cabs that continuously streaked by them. Ryan nodded, deep in thought.

"Sometimes I wish my dad did something that required actual work," he confided in Kurt seriously, his tone an odd mix of sadness and wonder, "It might've made an honest man out of him."

Kurt said nothing on the matter; who was he to get involved in Ryan's family affairs? He simply nodded instead, and then gave an almighty sigh.

"Seriously, how do you hail a cab in this city? I still haven't gotten the hang of it."

Ryan shrugged. "I honestly have no idea. Last time I went shopping in New York, our driver just waited for us out front." He paused. "I suppose if we keep walking, we'll be more likely to catch one than just standing here."

Kurt agreed, and the pair walked slowly down the crowded street together, peeking into the store windows as they passed by. Ryan seemed more excited than most teenagers would about The Disney Store, which he had forgotten was here. He tugged on Kurt's arm with a pleading expression on his face that was just too cute to ignore, and they ended up visiting the huge, cartoon-filled emporium.

* * *

Ryan was instantly reminded of his fleeting childhood, and the joy on his face made Kurt stop and rethink everything he knew about the guy. He was dragged around the store, Ryan cooing over all of the littlest (though admittedly cute) things.

"I used to love Disney when I was little," he told Kurt, examining a display of Cinderella merchandise as if it were a Godsend, "I wanted to be Prince Charming in our school play in middle school, but they gave the part to someone else."

"That sucks," Kurt concluded, though he found he was enjoying his little trip into the World of Disney more than he had expected to. The whole place demanded smiles; there were children and families everywhere, and the excited shouts of small kids always made Kurt grin. Ryan grinned right back at him, the disappointment from not being Prince Charming in middle school disappearing. There was a moment of hesitation, but Ryan slowly reached down and took Kurt's hand.

Kurt was ecstatic, especially when Ryan didn't let go after they left the store. They did, eventually, manage to get a cab, and Ryan immediately asked for the driver to take them to Bloomingdale's.

Bloomingdale's was the biggest department store Kurt had ever stepped into. The whole place was practically dripping class— it was so much different from the department stores in Lima, he almost fainted with joy. The multi-story establishment was filled with quality merchandise from floor to ceiling, and it left Kurt entranced.

He felt Ryan once again entwine their fingers, and he snapped back to reality to listen to what he was saying. "—upper floors are so much less crowded," Ryan announced, pulling Kurt gently in the direction of the elevator, "Don't worry, you'll get to look at everything." He smirked at Kurt's still amazed expression. "It's a lot to take in, I know."

The boys explored the store slowly, taking in the sights and sounds like it was air to breathe. Ryan liked to people-watch, pointing out certain people and making up a fake back-story on them based on how they were dressed, or how they moved, or what they said.

"And him, right there, in the red coat," Ryan whispered, and Kurt had to stop himself from giggling at their secret game. "He's hiding a dove up his sleeve, because he's really a famous but washed-up magician who he loves doing tricks for all the children he comes across."

Kurt did giggle then, and the man in question glanced their way, his eyes looking disapprovingly towards their entwined fingers. _Don't people know it's rude to stare?_ Kurt thought, his brain suddenly turned angry. "And he's homophobic," Kurt added under his breath, glaring at the guy, who turned away when they made eye-contact.

"You get used to the 'phobics when you live in Albuquerque," Ryan said, also glaring at the guy's retreating form, "I've gotten pretty tough skin about it."

"I got thrown in a dumpster every morning in high school for it," Kurt told him, and Ryan's eyes widened a little. "Believe me, tough skin is useful in Lima as well."

It was then that Kurt spotted the bomber jacket— it was blue, his favourite colour, and had a gorgeous cut that was just_ made_ for him. Ryan saw it too and smiled. "That would look amazing on you," he told Kurt, pointing to the jacket on display. "You want to try it on?"

Kurt took the bomber jacket off its hanger, took a glance at the price tag and winced. "Uh, no." Ryan frowned.

"Why not? It looks like it'd fit you." Kurt shrugged and put it back on its hanger.

"Yeah, but I don't want to fall in love with something I can't afford. I'd have to cut my food budget down to nothing this month just to _maybe _buy it."

Ryan reached around Kurt and snatched the jacket, peering for himself at the price tag. "Oh, is that all? If you want it, I'll get it for you," Ryan said seriously. "Here, try it on." He offered it to Kurt, which he quickly refused.

"That's alright. I really don't feel comfortable with you spending that much money on—"

"Shut up and put on the jacket," Ryan growled, cutting off Kurt mid-sentence. "I _like_ buying things for people. It's not like I don't have the money. Honest, it's nothing. Now _put it on_."

Kurt meekly took it from Ryan, who seemed to relax the moment he did so. He was a little nervous, and ended up having a little trouble locating the arm-holes. Ryan smiled smugly when he did finally manage to pull it on over the form-fitting sweater he was wearing; it fit him like a glove, and the colour really brought out his eyes.

"You look wonderful, Kurt! C'mon, just think of it like a make-up for not getting you a Christmas present last year."

Kurt had to agree that the jacket was stunning, and it did suit him well. He let himself be persuaded quite easily to let Ryan pay for it— he even didn't bother to tell Ryan his argument of it being a belated Christmas gift was invalid because they hadn't even known each other last Christmas.

Their shopping trip lasted for several more hours, until even Ryan was worn out, the sun setting behind the tallest buildings. Kurt had long since gotten over his expensive gift, deciding that if Ryan wanted to spend cash on him, he wasn't going to complain. The final taxi ride back to campus was a comfortable quiet, the silence only broken by the sounds of the city that never sleeps and the sound of their combined breathing. Kurt was well on his way to falling asleep on Ryan's shoulder.

"Get up, sleepy head, for as little as you are, I don't think I can carry you and our purchases back to our dorm rooms," Ryan whispered in his ear, and Kurt rubbed his eyes sleepily. His feet were numb from walking, and his whole body felt as if it were encased in molasses. "Seriously, get out of the cab before the driver _pushes_ you out."

Ryan sent an apologetic smile to the cabbie as he pulled Kurt from the vehicle, and made sure to pay him a hefty tip for staying parked for as long as he had. Kurt managed to (barely) stay conscious even to left Ryan lead him back to the residence building, where they said their good-byes for the evening.

"Get some sleep," Ryan warned, "You have classes in the morning, don't you?"

Kurt groaned. "_Why_ did I let you keep me out so late?" he asked, his eyes blinking to try and ward of the sleepiness.

"Because I'm pretty?" Ryan guessed, and bent to place a brief, warm kiss on Kurt's cheek. "Goodnight, Sweetheart."

"G'night," Kurt grumbled back, a secret part inside of him screaming YES! with excitement over the caring gesture. They parted ways, and once Kurt had securely locked himself in his room, he allowed himself to put a hand to the cheek Ryan had brushed his lips against. This was definitely going better than he expected.


	11. Butterflies and Hurricanes

_Sorry about the slow update; since March break is over, I have less time (and much more homework), so updates will be spaced out a little. Sorry, guys! I'll try to write most of the next chapter tomorrow, but no guarantees I'll finish it, alright? :)_

* * *

**11: Butterflies and Hurricanes (Muse)**

Music pulsed around them so loud it was disconcerting, and Kurt found himself almost wishing he had said no when Ryan had invited him to this shindig. Apparently, Ryan's friend Kyle from Modern Dance had just moved into his own apartment, and decided to have a house-warming party; the small space was crammed with hot bodies, grinding and swaying to the music that was really too loud to distinguish. The smell of college students and cheep beer was everywhere, but in it was a sense of freedom that seemed to emanate from all around. Freedom to party like there was no tomorrow, though Kurt hadn't even touched the plastic cup of warm alcohol clutched loosely in one hand.

"Can't hold your liquor?" one party-goer had asked him extremely loudly not long after they had arrived, looking at his full cup. "Or are you the designated driver?" Kurt had mumbled something in the affirmative, and the young man had rushed off to join in the drunken dancing of a few of the other partiers. Ryan was one of them, having a blast after Kurt had told him to go and enjoy himself. Just because Kurt wasn't overly fond of parties didn't mean that Ryan couldn't have a good time.

Ryan weaved his way out of the crowded living room and back to Kurt after someone turned on a slow song. His clothes were mussed and his face sweaty, his breath coming in short bursts. He took a seat next to Kurt in the breakfast nook, his eyes sweeping Kurt's face quickly. "Are you okay?" he asked him seriously, his voice straining to be heard over the music even though it had calmed down a little when the slow song started. He reached out a hand to brush Kurt's hair off his forehead and smiled. Even that simple gesture had Kurt reeling, wishing that they were somewhere more private.

"I'm fine," Kurt said, putting down his beer and pushing it away from him, "I just don't like crowds much." Ryan frowned, and glanced at the crowded house. When he looked back at Kurt, his eyes held a look of concern.

"Are you feeling claustrophobic? Because we can leave, if you want; Kyle won't mind if we duck out early."

"That's sweet, but I don't want to take you away from your friends..." Kurt was surprised at how shy he seemed to be around Ryan all the time. His usual bitchiness seemed subdued around the handsome blond. Perhaps it was his nerves that were doing it.

Ryan frowned. "I've had my dancing-fix. C'mon, let's get out of here," he said, taking Kurt's hand and standing up. They abandoned the nook and meandered through the crowd, Ryan pushing drunken Juilliard students out of his way and gently pulling Kurt behind him. They left the apartment and got into Ryan's car, a shiny black Cadillac that had been a late graduation present from his parents. Ryan insisted Kurt drive them back to campus as had been drinking and wouldn't even touch his keys, even if he still felt completely sober.

They drove in a comfortable silence, the lights and the noise of New York fading into the background. Ryan turned on the radio, but kept the music to a low hum; both of their ears were strained from listening to the music at Kyle's apartment. After the short drive, Kurt parked carefully just outside of the residence building and handed Ryan's keys back to him. They didn't exchange any words as they crossed the expanse of lawn together, their fingers intertwined.

When they reached Kurt's dorm room, there was a certain air of anticipation. Ryan let go of Kurt's hand and instead reached up to cup Kurt's chin, his thumb brushing across his cheek softly. "I'm sorry you didn't have a good time tonight," he mumbled, looking into Kurt's eyes and blushing slightly. "I thought you'd like going out and stuff."

When Kurt thought about his first two weeks of seeing Ryan regularly, he would smile fondly and remember times like these. Their outings began to be more frequent and more intimate after their shopping trip, the pair often meeting up to practice for Ryan's upcoming open-house performance or just to sit over a cup of coffee and talk. Ryan was always the gentleman, and even asked for Kurt's permission to kiss him goodnight when they returned to campus after Kyle's party.

When Kurt's answer was, "Absolutely," Ryan leaned down and lightly brushed his lips to Kurt's. It was a moment that was just so sweet and genuine that neither wanted it to end, the pleasant peacefulness it brought begging to be savoured. There was no hurry, no passion; it was just a simple, chaste kiss that left both boys breathless when they pulled away.

There was no name for this moment, no label on their relationship that defined what exactly they were; and both boys were surprisingly okay with that arrangement. They said their goodbyes quietly, neither really wanting to leave the other's company, but knowing that it was too late to visit their favourite coffee shop together.

Kurt fell asleep quickly after changing into his pyjamas, his mind wandering to a certain blue-eyed young man with a gentle touch and soft lips. His cheek still tingled where Ryan's thumb had caressed it, and Kurt thought he must be going crazy because of how nice this felt, how right. Life was perfect.

* * *

Lillian, who was still avoiding Ryan like the plague outside of their one class together, was the first to notice the shift in their relationship from platonic to romantic— Ryan came to class smiling the next day, a special new glint in his eyes. She felt instantly jealous over the individual who was causing Ryan his happiness, and vowed to sabotage the relationship and convince Ryan that he wasn't _gay_, per se; he just needed the _right _woman to make him happy. (And that she was that woman, of course.)

Kurt and Ryan were blissfully unaware of this plot, opting to ignore most of the world around them and focus on nothing else but their schoolwork and each other.

"Was I sharp on the second verse?"

"A little," Kurt concluded that sunny afternoon, a little awed by how the light from the open window was lighting up Ryan's face. "But you've pretty much got it except for that part." Ryan grinned.

"I should hope so. The open-house is next week!"

"You'll be fine," Kurt assured him, trying to ease the sudden look of worry that had etched itself into Ryan's features. "You've practically got it already. You'll be perfect by the open-house."

Ryan removed his hat, a white and blue striped newsboy, and rung it loosely in his hands. "My parents have decided to postpone their trip to the Bahamas to come see me perform," he announced almost sullenly, his gaze focussed on the hat in his hands. Kurt didn't know what to say. Ryan rarely mentioned his family.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" he asked after a moment, watching Ryan's actions anxiously.

"Good, I mean... I guess it means they love me, right? So it can't be a _bad_ thing..." He paused, putting his hat back on and putting his hands together in his lap. "But my dad hasn't been to see me perform in ages, and I guess I'm just... nervous." He sighed, lamely tapping a few keys on the piano in a nonsensical tune. "And I haven't seen any of my family in a while, which is weird, you know? I've had a twin for the first eighteen years of my life, and now suddenly we've been separated for college— and it kind of just hit me how much I miss home."

Kurt stared at him, his mouth open slightly. "You have a _twin_?" he asked, his eyes wide. Ryan had forgotten to mention _that _fact. "There's another guy out there who looks _just like you_?" Kurt couldn't fathom there being more than one of Ryan. He was just so special, it seemed almost wrong for there to be someone else who was just like him.

Ryan chuckled at the astonished look of Kurt's face. "Not exactly. My sister and I are fraternal twins— I told you about Sharpay, remember?"

Kurt remembered her being mentioned maybe once in the weeks that they'd known each other. "Vaguely," he said, his eyes locked on Ryan's. "I bet she's not anywhere near as awesome as you are, though." He blushed. "I mean—" Ryan laughed at his floundering.

"She's the better singer of us, but I can dance circles around her." He put and arm around Kurt's shoulder, his worry gone for the moment. "If I can hit that note, though, I'm sure it'll impress her."

"Then we'd better get practicing!" Kurt decided, his fingers finding the now-familiar notes and his voice easily slipping into the lyrics of Ryan's female partner. They practiced for a while longer, until their voices were tired and their eyes drooping. But Ryan had hit the note he was supposed to, and that had been their goal.

"Want to go for coffee?" Ryan suggested, a brilliant white smile on his face. Kurt nodded eagerly, and they set off toward _Mocha Rocha_, their favourite coffee shop, together.

* * *

Her eyes burned into the backs of their heads as they sat at the counter, drinking sugary lattés and laughing together. Her heart was beating so hard it might just pop out of her chest, and her gaze was filled with such malice one might wonder why Ryan's hat had yet to be set on fire by it. Her low-fat mochachino sat untouched on the table in front of her, her appetite gone after seeing them together. How dare they do such despicable thing like _holding hands in public_? It made her feel sick to her stomach.

"He'll come around," she quietly assured herself, slowly tearing a napkin into tiny pieces. "He just needs a little _coaxing_, that's all." Her eyes were wild as she gaze fixed on Ryan's face, his eyes smiling as he told Kurt something she couldn't hear. Kurt laughed and touched Ryan's shoulder. Lillian almost threw her drink at him, but resisted. She couldn't go and make a scene, or else Ryan might hate her. And she couldn't have that, now could she?


	12. Everybody Wants You

_Hey, so I DID finish this in one day!! Yippee!! Hope you like it. And yes, I am the Evil Queen of Cliffhangers. :)_

* * *

**12: Everybody Wants You (Billy Squire)**

"One, two, three," counted professor DiBucci, an exasperated tone in his usually patient voice, "One, two— _Lillian_! The spin isn't until _after_ the dip." He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Take five, everyone. No, you know what— let's stop here today. You're all dismissed."

The students filed obediently out of the room, diverging once they reached the hallway and moving away from the classroom in groups of twos and threes. Lillian followed the white fedora that weaved through the mass of warm bodies, watching him carefully as he turned left at the corner, and stopped at the first available drinking fountain.

Ryan sipped from the water delicately, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand afterward as he straightened. He caught sight of someone from the corner of his eye and turned to look at her. Lillian stood a few feet from him, her hands clasped tightly behind her back. She had a dejected look in her eyes that had nothing to do with being yelled at by their professor, and Ryan found himself wishing things had been different. She had been a great friend to him.

"Hey," he said quietly. She smiled weakly.

"Hi, Ryan."

There was a brief moment of silence before they said, "I'm sorry," in unison. Ryan smiled at the stumble, and Lillian smiled because of his smile.

"Jinx," he said jokingly, his eyes meeting hers. She laughed lightly and unclasped her hands.

"I'm sorry I... threw myself at you," Lillian explained, her arms falling to her sides and she took a step towards him. "I just... can we be friends again?" She sounded sincere, so Ryan smiled and nodded. She seemed to visibly relax, her shoulders dropping ever so slightly.

"Good. Because I really need someone to talk to, and you're the only person at this school who doesn't think I'm a bitch." Ryan chuckled.

"You're not a bitch."

"Tell that to my Ballet class. They've decided I'm the Super Bitch and nothing seems to change their minds." She laughed, though there wasn't any humour in her voice. "You were always so nice to me... I'm sorry I wrecked that." Ryan put a hand on her shoulder.

"I never stopped being your friend, Lily. You just kind of... disappeared." She nodded, and put her hand up to cover the one on her shoulder.

"I should have done things differently, I know that. I just didn't know what to do. I was so embarrassed." She paused, and looked him in the eye. "Forgive me?"

"Of course." They walked in silence out of the building, and Ryan put an arm around her shoulder comfortingly. He didn't see her smirk at this action, and he didn't hear the mental cheers of _YES!!_ replaying over and over in her head. "What did you want to talk about?" Lillian sighed, her cheerfulness suddenly gone.

"I'm leaving Juilliard."

Ryan stopped walking, momentarily stunned by her confession. She stopped too, looking at him with a slightly glazed expression. Her Acting for Dancers class had really paid off— she put on a slightly pained look, her eyes looking into his sadly. She completely pulled it off, the lie slipping easily for her tongue.

"You're leaving? Why? When? For how long?" Ryan stumbled over his questions, suddenly feeling hurt. They had just made up, and now she was dropping this bomb on him. She held out her hand to him.

"Walk with me?"

He nodded lamely, taking her hand and following her into the courtyard outside of the Lecture Hall. They sat down on the edge of the large, circular fountain that decorated the center of the courtyard, their hands still held together loosely.

"Why are you leaving?" Ryan asked. He would miss her terribly, he decided, even if she had been giving him the cold shoulder for the past two weeks. They had become quiet close during the month of their friendship, and she had been a great help to his adjusting and fitting in at Juilliard.

Lillian sighed, playing her role perfectly. "I just can't deal with all the stress, I suppose. I'm failing a bunch of my courses— Acting for Dancers is my worst, but I can't drop out if I want to graduate... so I'm not going to graduate." She looked at him, forcing herself to becoming teary-eyed. "I'm going to go home." She thickened her accent a little for the last sentence, because it made her sound more emotional. Ryan looked at her sympathetically and picked up her hand, holding it with both of his.

"I'm sorry," Ryan said, pulling her hand to his chest and holding it over his heart. "I wish I could do something..." He paused and gave her a sad smile. "I don't suppose I could convince you to stay, huh?"

Lillian shook her head quickly, her dark curls bouncing over her shoulders. "Nope. I've already bought a plane ticket and everything. I fly out tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Ryan choked, shocked by the suddenness of it all. His mind was reeling. Tomorrow? But they'd just made up! That didn't seem fair.

"Yes, tomorrow," she said, her hand still placed on his chest even though his hands had relaxed. "I would have told you sooner, Ry— I was just so embarrassed. I thought you hated me." Her eyes kept darting to the edge of the courtyard, waiting for something, but Ryan didn't notice. His eyes were looking over her shoulder at nothingness, his brain trying to keep up with her words.

"I don't hate you. You're my friend."

"I know that now." She gave him a small smile as her eyes locked on something in the distance. "I have to go and pack, though, so—" She made to stand up, but his grip tightened on her hand and she stopped.

"I'm going to miss you," he told her, his eyes locking onto hers once more. And he would. She had been so nice to him, the first person to talk to him in Modern Dance and to have lunch with him.

"I know," she said quietly, using her free hand to touch his face. He smiled weakly. She bit her lip and look away, her eyes tearing up. "Ryan, could I... could I have a good-bye kiss? I mean, I know you don't like me like that but... just one for the road?" She looked at him hopefully, pretending to be on the verge of tears. Ryan gave her a sympathetic smile and nodded.

"Sure, Lily."

He leaned forward, planning to give her a quick, platonic peck on the lips, the kind of kiss he'd give his mother or Sharpay. Lillian's eyes lit up, however, and she captured his lips in a much more passionate kiss than he'd intended, using her free hand to grasp the back of his neck and hold their mouths together. Ryan's eyes widened and he raised an eyebrow; when she said 'one for the road,' he hadn't known she'd meant _this_.

He reciprocated for a second before trying to pull away, but her mouth followed his, making it nearly impossible for him to break the kiss. He released her hand from where he had still be holding it to his chest and put his hands on her shoulders, pushing her gently away from him. She broke the kiss, breathless, and looked at him.

"Thanks," she said, grinning. He shook his head and laughed gently.

"That wasn't what I thought you meant, but uh... you're welcome?" Lillian's grin grew even wider when she looked over his shoulder towards the person who stood not ten feet from them, frozen in place. Ryan noticed this change and turned to look behind him, his smile instantly fading.

"Kurt."

* * *

_(Earlier that day.)_

"Hi, Kurt."

Kurt turned toward the voice, looking at the small brunette. He recognised her as Ryan's dancer friend.

"Hello. Lillian, was it?"

Lillian grinned. "Yeah. Listen, Ryan wanted me to tell you to meet him at three outside the lecture hall— he said he wants to tell you something important." Kurt frowned, slinging his leather book bag over his shoulder slowly.

"Something important? Like what?"

Lillian shrugged, holding her hands up in defence. "I don't know. Don't shoot the messenger, alright? How am I supposed to know what goes on in Ryan's head?" She laughed daintily, her smile growing. "He seemed really excited about it, though."

She looked at her watch and grimaced. "Darn, I'm late for class. See you later, okay?" She turned around and left, her grin quickly turning into a malicious smirk as she was out of sight. Kurt raised an eyebrow, but figured that whatever Ryan had to tell him must be good news, if he was so excited about it.

He vaguely wondered why Ryan hadn't just texted him where and when to meet him like he always did, but pushed it to the back of his mind as he slowly walked to class. He was pondering what Ryan's good news might be throughout his lecture, hoping that it had to do with the open-house. Maybe someone had gotten ill and DiBucci had given him a second leading role?

His lecture ended early, and Kurt quickly grabbed an elevator and went down to the first floor. He was ginning by the time the cool air of the outside hit him, hoping that he wasn't too early for their rendezvous. His caught sight of a white fedora the moment he stepped into the large, square courtyard and immediately began to walk toward it.

When he was close enough to distinguish the people sitting on the side of the fountain, he recognised Lillian was sitting beside him. They seemed deep in discussion, and they were... holding hands?

Kurt's heart fluttered nervously. Of course, it had to be just a friendly thing, he reasoned, his feet speeding up just a little. When he was maybe ten feet from them, Ryan leaned in and kissed her. Kurt froze mid-stride, his mouth falling open slightly. It wasn't even as if _she_ had kissed _him_— he had _leaned towards her_, and now they were sucking-face in the middle of the courtyard, right where all could see.

Kurt felt his cheeks heat up in an angry blush. He closed his mouth, his teeth clenching together. How _could_ he? Ryan didn't even have the decency to break-up with him before moving on to the next person? Kurt figured he knew what Ryan wanted to tell him— he had seen enough to know.

Ryan and Lillian stopped kissing, and Ryan shook his head with a soft laugh. Kurt's heartbeat thudded in his ears, and his hands clenched into fists. He had been played for a fool, again. The one time he thought he could trust someone with his feelings, and he got dumped for a _girl_. And not even for a pretty, fashionable girl; a girl who was wearing _brown_.

Ryan turned to look at him, a frown instantly forming on his face. "Kurt," he said, and the word cut him like a knife. Kurt just shook his head, unwilling to let himself cry in public. "I need to—"

"Explain?" he suggested bitterly, glaring at Ryan viciously. Ryan frowned and stood up, his mouth open to say more. "Save it." Turn turned on his heel and walked away, leaving a stunned Ryan and a satisfied Lillian behind.

It was Ryan's turn to be frozen, his eyes wide in shock as he watched Kurt walk away. After Kurt was gone from sight, he seemed to wake from his stupor, turning to Lillian with a hurt look in his eyes. "You _knew_ he was there, and you...?" He shook his head, his brain not seeming to comprehend that kind little Lillian had schemed against him. "Why would you do that?"

"I can't help if I'm in love with you, Ryan," she said simply. He shook his head and glared at her. "I had to do it."

"Your Ballet class is right," Ryan stated slowly, his eyes locking onto hers for the final time that afternoon, this time filled with anger instead of friendliness. "You really _are_ a bitch." And then, he turned and raced after his boyfriend, hoping to hell Kurt would let him explain.


	13. Boys Don't Cry

_Again with my cliff-hangers! I must seriously be getting on your nerves by now... I hope that I didn't over-do the French in this chapter... though I suppose you don't even have to read the parts when Hélène is talking to understand the story... If anyone wants a translation of what she says (though it's all pretty simple, and I think I imply what she's saying well), just ask, okay?_

* * *

**13: Boys Don't Cry (The Cure)**

Kurt ran long and fast, his arms and legs pumping wildly in an effort to rid himself of the stinging pain behind his eyes and the ache in his chest. It didn't help. He could feel the tears coming, and shoved people out of the way in his hurry to get to his dorm room. No way in hell would he let anyone see him cry, not even complete strangers.

His eyes were burning when he finally reached his room, and his hands fumbled with his keys when he tried to unlock the door. When he eventually managed to get it open, he flung himself into the room with reckless abandon, instantly curling into a ball on his bed and sobbing. His heart felt as if it'd been torn in two.

He pulled out his phone and glanced at it, the picture of he and Ryan on the screen instantly tugging at his heart again. He put it face-down on his bed beside him, the ache in his chest building intensity until it threatened to consume him, burn him from the inside out. He buried his face in his knees, not fully understanding why he was so damn upset over this.

There was a moment where he felt as if he had broken free of himself completely, his body racked with sobs he didn't even feel. How could he have been so _stupid_? He should have stuck to his instincts. He should have known Ryan and Lillian weren't just very close friends. He should have _known_. The fact that almost every relationship he'd ever had ended in tears didn't surprise him much in Lima, but New York was supposed to be different. He had let his guard down, and he had been stung.

The soft, quick knocks on his door startled him from his misery, and he furiously wiped the tears away, half-hoping it was Ryan at his door, but also hoping that it wasn't.

The muffled, but recognisable accented voice that came through his door saying, "Kurt? _Es-ce que tu es malade?_" was definitely not Ryan's, and he got to his feet to answer it.

He shakily answered the door, dragging a sleeve over his eyes to rid his face of tears. "Hélène," he said, staring slightly in awe at the tiny French girl at his door. She got a look of concern on her face when she saw his red eyes, her smile fading slightly.

"You are... sad, _oui_?" She struggled with the simple sentence, her English having improved very little since her arrival in New York.

Kurt didn't even attempt a small smile, his face feeling like it would crack with the effort. Instead, he gave a pitiful sigh of "_Oui, _Hélène," his heart far too broken to do much else. Hélène gave him an adorable pout, her eyes looking at him sympathetically.

"_Es-ce que tu veut parler de lui?_" Though the words were unfamiliar, her tone of voice implied she was asking if he wanted to talk about it. He pondered her question a moment before nodding, closing the door behind him as he stepped out into the hall.

"Okay. Sure. Walk with me?" Her brow furrowed in confusion, and he quickly searched his memory for the minimal French he had picked up during his obsession with the language in the seventh grade and during his friendship with Hélène. "Um... _Marche avec moi?_"

Hélène nodded, offering her arm to him. "_Je sais une un grand magasin de café que nous pouvons aller à. Ce s'appelle _Mocha Rocha_… _" Kurt grinned. He looped his arm through hers and they walked together toward _Mocha Rocha _together, each glad for the other's companionship.

* * *

Ryan stomped down the halls of the residential building, his anger bubbling up into his chest. He was absolutely furious with Lillian and with himself for not seeing through her ploy. She probably wasn't even New York; her acting skills had obviously improved, because she had become an excellent liar. His knuckles turned white as he dug his fingernails into his palms, walking in the direct path of three students (who jumped out of his way) without stopping to apologise.

One girl, however, did not move quickly enough, and Ryan found himself colliding with her— and not gently, either. He instantly felt sorry, his anger fading slightly. "Sorry, I was just—" he began, suddenly recognising the girl who he had bumped into and frowning. "You're in Kurt's Musical Theatre course! You wouldn't happen to have seen him, would you?"

Amelia rolled her eyes at Ryan, her annoyance visible on her face. "As a matter of fact I _have_," she declared almost sarcastically, her nose in the air, "He just about _ran me over _going to his room— looked like he might've been crying—"

Ryan was already gone, his feet bringing him swiftly toward Kurt's room. Amelia brushed off her clothes and straightened her jacket for the second time in the last ten minutes, her pride hurt more than anything.

Ryan knocked on Kurt's door hurriedly, his heart thumping in his chest. When there was no answer, he tried again. "Come on, Kurt; just let me explain— it really wasn't what it looked like!" He knocked again, his knuckles beginning to sting from the contact.

"You're probably not going to believe me, but _she_ came onto _me_! I know that doesn't make it any better, and I know I hurt you Kurt— just let me make it up to you. Can I _please_ come in?"

After a few more minutes of waiting, Ryan slapped his palm against the door. "Damn it Kurt! Just open the door already!" When there was no reply, Ryan took out his phone. He dialled Kurt's number, and frowned when he heard the customary Single Ladies ringtoneon the other side of the door. He let it ring until he got Kurt's voicemail, wondering why Kurt wasn't answering. Was he really that upset? He _always_ answered his phone.

"Kurt, I know you're in there! Come on, Sweetheart—" Ryan rapped his knuckles against the door once more, his energy draining from him. He turned and leaned against the door, feeling hurt and humiliated. More than a few people had stared at this show as they walked past, some of them shaking their heads and mumbling mean words he pretended not to hear.

He slowly slid down the door, pressing his back to it. "Kurt, I'm sorry," he repeated, "Just talk to me, please? How can you be that mad? It was only one kiss! Do you want me to beg? Because I will if I have to." He sat on the floor like that for a long time and talked to the young man he knew was behind the wooden door he was leaning against.

"...And that was all. Will you talk to me _now_?" He hit the back of his head against the door lightly, just hard enough to make a sound. His hat had long since been discarded, and it was no lying next to him on the well-worn hall carpet. He felt like a complete jerk, though he was kind of getting fed up with the silent-treatment he was receiving.

"Please let me in, Kurt. Please?" He sighed and closed his eyes, banging his head lightly against the door again. "It's been like, an _hour_."

"You've been sitting there for an hour?"

Ryan's eyes snapped open. In front of him stood Kurt with his hands on his hips and his head tilted slightly to the left. Beside him was a petite brunette girl who was staring at him with curiosity, a slight frown on her lips. Ryan quickly got to his feet, snatching his hat from the floor on the way up and putting it back on his head.

"Kurt, I— you have to let me explain."

Hélène was looking from one boy to the other, confusion on her pretty features. Though she vaguely understood what was going on, not knowing had her at a disadvantage; she was standing in the middle of what could quite possibly turn into a fight, and she had no idea what to do about it. She frowned, and looked at Kurt when he started to reply.

"Okay. Explain." Though he had calmed down during his coffee break with Hélène, he was still fuming beneath the surface. "I'm not stopping you." He didn't remove his hands from his hips, though he did stand a little straighter, drawing himself to his full height.

Ryan faltered, but finally settled on telling Kurt the same thing he had told Lillian.

"Lillian's a bitch."


	14. Please Forgive Me

_I am currently supporting a brain-splitting, mind-blowingly horrible headache, and it's two in the morning, and my coffee supply just ran out, so if there are spelling mistakes, point them out and I'll fix them, TOMORROW. Right now, I think I need sleep. I just wanted to get this published before I went to bed. -yawn-_

* * *

**14: Please Forgive Me (Bryan Adams)**

Somehow, that was enough to get Kurt to let him into his dorm room. Hélène had left when she realised that Kurt wasn't in any danger; she snuck away quietly, knowing that she had no business being a part of their conversation after that point, and that it would just make the situation tenser if she stayed.

Kurt closed the door behind them, and looked at Ryan expectantly. "Is that all? She's a bitch?"

Ryan nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, no. But that seems like the easiest explanation for... what you saw." He sighed, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I know I hurt you Kurt, and I never meant for that to happen. I guess I'm just... a little too naive sometimes. She tricked me."

Kurt bit his lip. Ryan's dejected tone had his heart softening, and that made him angry, because he wanted to hate Ryan. He wanted to be angry at Ryan, because then he wouldn't have to deal with the pain he felt when he thought Ryan was cheating on him. He just_ couldn't_ hate Ryan when he was making _that_ face; looking like he thought he was the most despicable thing on the face of the planet.

"So you don't... you don't _like _her?" Kurt found his voice asking, and he was embarrassed by how much the words seemed to tremble as they tumbled from his mouth. Ryan shook his head quickly, his hat slipping down over his eyes. He pulled it off and held it in front of him, his fingers anxiously tracing along the brim unconsciously.

"No, Kurt. I wouldn't have been seeing _you _if I liked _her_. I don't like girls. I thought that was obvious." His eyes looked downcast and settled on his hat, playing with it a little nervously. "I don't expect you to forgive me for doing that to you— but I honestly had no idea what she was planning. Lillian just can't except that I can't reciprocate those feelings for her. I know it doesn't make it any better... but she kissed me, not the other way around. I could _never_ like her like that. I only have eyes for you... oh, Kurt, don't _cry_."

Kurt hadn't even realised he was crying until he felt Ryan's hand on his face, rubbing away the offending wetness from his cheek. He felt so pathetic for not letting Ryan explain things in the first place; he felt like a fool for being so hurt over something so little. "God," he laughed, when he realised how pathetic this really was, "This is all so... _high school_. I mean, geez, it's not like a caught you _sleeping_ with her or anything." He laughed slightly, and Ryan made a disgusted face.

"Oh, _ew, _gross. That's not an image I needed implanted into my brain." He dropped his hat onto Kurt's dresser and massaged his temples. "I think I need mental-floss." Ryan put his hand back up to Kurt's face, looking into his eyes carefully, searching for forgiveness. Kurt chuckled, leaning into Ryan's touch on his cheek.

"I'm sorry I overreacted," Kurt whispered, letting his eyes flutter closed when Ryan ran his thumb over his cheekbone.

"You had every right to," Ryan said, closing the space between them and brushing his lips to Kurt's forehead. "Though, I wish you'd trust me more. I would _never_ do anything to hurt you." Kurt buried his face in Ryan's shoulder, and Ryan put his chin on Kurt's head.

"I have trust issues," he mumbled into the fabric of Ryan's shirt, "I should have trusted you, and I'm sorry I didn't."

"I hope I can earn your trust one day, Kurt," Ryan declared, pulling away from the embrace. He looked at Kurt seriously. "I really, really do."

* * *

"_If I were there, I'd take her to the rug. Please tell me you at least _slapped _her._"

Kurt smiled, shaking his head slightly. "No, I didn't hit her, Mercedes. Though, now that I think about it, I totally should have."

"_It'd serve her right. The bitch tried to steal your man!_"

Kurt chuckled into his phone, throwing a sidelong glance at Ryan. Final dress rehearsals were about to begin, and it wouldn't be long until they started their run-through. Ryan looked darling in his black dress shirt and white slacks; his partner, an adorable but perhaps too excitable girl named Madison, was wearing a white dress with a black sash around the middle that met in a bow on her back. During rehearsal, Ryan's hat was white with a black sash as well, but for the actual performance DiBucci had requested he go hatless. The look on Ryan's face had been priceless; he looked as though he'd never 'gone hatless' in his life.

"It's like going commando," Ryan had confided in him earlier, his tone completely serious, "If you're not used to it... it just feels weird!" Kurt didn't share this comment with Mercedes, because he knew she was already touchy on this whole Ryan-never-being-sans-hat thing. She thought it was strange, and kept asking about it; Kurt avoided her questions on the matter, because he didn't really know why Ryan wore hats; it was just his _thing_.

"_Are ya still there, Kurt?_"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. They're about to start the show; I'll video-call you later, alright? I don't want Ryan to think I'd rather talk on the phone than watch him perform."

Mercedes booming laugh followed that comment, just as the tech crew was lowering the lights. She bid him farewell, and he tucked his phone back into his pocket, making sure it was off so that his ringtone couldn't accidently upset the performance. Kurt was situated about three rows back; the auditorium was dotted with on-lookers, a few of them loved ones, but most of them teachers coming to admire their handiwork before the show the following night. The curtain rose, and the first skit began.

In the second skit, Kurt's mouth moved unconsciously to both Ryan and Madison's lines when it came to their part, having had the whole thing memorised by now. He was mesmerised by Ryan's acting ability, and then the way he danced; it was one thing to being dancing with him, and quite another to be a casual observer. The moves looked so familiar, and the words too, that Kurt almost wanted to join them. He didn't dare, of course, start singing, content to mouthing the words and occasionally humming along.

He clapped when they were finished, feeling perhaps even more relieved than Ryan himself that he had nailed his part. Ryan's every step, every line, every note was perfectly done, and Kurt couldn't have felt prouder. His were the last claps to fade out as the third performance again, and he waited breathlessly for Ryan's other part as a back-up dancer in the seventh scene.

When the seventh and final skit began, Kurt watched attentively. Ryan sashayed onto the stage behind the two leads, along with four other male dancers and two female ones. To Kurt, of course, Ryan was the best dancer, his feet easily finding the steps and moving flawlessly to the rhythm. Two of the other dances collided with each other half-way through and messed up the final ten beats, but Ryan continued as if nothing had happened, finishing with his signature deep bow.

The rest of the cast pile onto the stage, joined hands and did a final bow all together; Ryan broke the fourth wall just long enough to wink at Kurt before turning his attention back to the entire invisible audience, bowing along with his friends. The lights went up and the cast of about thirty young adults swarmed in all directions, several (including Ryan) simply jumping off the five-foot stage rather than go to stage left and take the stairs down.

Kurt was enveloped in a huge hug before the lights were even back to their fullest brightness, Ryan beaming brighter than any spotlight could have. "Did you see it? I was perfect!" he gushed, modesty leaving him for a moment as he basked in the glory of said perfection. Kurt grinned toothily back at him, nodding along. "Let's hope everything goes like that tomorrow night when we do it for real... besides Jackson tripping over Peter, of course." Kurt made a noise of agreement, and Ryan wrapped his arms around Kurt in another warm hug— he was never shy about his public displays of affection, at least on campus— and Kurt peeked over Ryan's shoulder. He glared daggers at the girl approaching them, willing her with his eyes to _just leave them the fuck alone_. He had never looked at someone with such hatred, except maybe Dave Karofsky after one too many unexpected slushie facials.

Kurt let go of Ryan, still attempting to give Lillian the Death Stare. It didn't seem to work at doing either of the intended outcomes— make her go away, or make her die a slow and painful death. She poked Ryan in the shoulder blade, and he turned to look at her, his pleased expression turning into one of sadness.

"Hi," she said simply, straightening her costume a little. Kurt wanted to say she looked ridiculous, or something just as nasty, but she actually looked quite nice in her lilac dress and white accessories. Kurt would never lie when it came to fashion, except maybe to say that he loved all of Ryan's numerous hats.

Ryan eyed her suspiciously. "Lillian." It wasn't a greeting, nor was it a question. Her name just sort of hung in the air between them, filling the empty void. Kurt really did want to slap her across the face, but his nature wouldn't allow him to. He was not a violent or aggressive person. He could not allow himself to stoop so low.

"I wanted to apologise," Lillian said smoothly, like the words had been rehearsed. They sounded fake, and even Ryan wasn't naive enough to be tricked by her twice. He raised one eyebrow delicately, looking down at her.

"Why? Because your plan to ruin my relationship didn't work out?" He wished, vaguely, that she had kept her promise and gotten on a plane to London when she said she was going to. He honestly didn't want to look at her. He wasn't sure if he'd ever belt so betrayed, and he'd lived with _Sharpay Evans_ for eighteen years.

Lillian looked down at her white pumps, distantly digging her toe into the carpet. "Well... yeah. Sort of. I'm a horrible person, and you must hate me—" Kurt cut her off with a loud scoff, but she only paused for a moment before continuing. "I have come to the conclusion that I can't make you straight, and I hope we can still be civil to one another, or even friends again?" She extended her hand toward the blond, but he made no move to take it. Instead, he looked towards Kurt, his eyes asking a question. Kurt's eyes gave an answer.

"I don't think that'd be appropriate, Lillian," was his polite refusal, his words short and neutral, without even a hint of emotion. He wasn't crowned the _Drama King of East High_ for nothing. His acting was perfect, as always. He managed to keep a straight face. "I don't think that we should be friends anymore."

Kurt saw how Lillian's face seemed to crumple, and she reminded him of Rachel Berry, or maybe even Santana, in a way. He almost felt sorry for her as he watched her compose herself, putting on that mask of _alright_ness that he knew all too well. He'd worn that mask a lot in high school. Now it was her turn to wear it, her turn to be in pain. She had almost caused him to ruin the best thing that had happened to him since he came to New York. He wasn't about to pity her for being horrible to him.

"Okay," she said, her voice even. Only her eyes betrayed how hurt she was.

Ryan almost stopped her as she turned away— he was too nice for his own good, sometimes— but Kurt put a hand on his arm and murmured, "Let her go. She doesn't deserve it." Ryan looked at Kurt with gratitude, laying a hand on the small boy's shoulder and squeezing gently.

They were going to be okay. They were going to make it.


	15. Pretty in Pink

_Why do you think they're acting like they're in the third grade? I never saw any guys kissing each other in the hallways when _I_ was in the third grade... but fine. I'll at least _try _to make them somewhat less innocent. –smirks– Just innuendo, though. I wanted to keep it pretty _Disney_, minus a tiny bit of swearing that would never get by on the _Disney_ channel._

_I'm was hoping to have this whole thing finished before the back nine air, so hopefully I'll have another chapter out ASAP, but I don't think I'll be finished by then. :(_

_Also, I CAN'T WRITE SHARPAY. So, sorry her part stinks. Her character is just so complex... but I digress. Read on!_

* * *

**15: Pretty in Pink (The Psychedelic Furs)**

"When are they getting here?" Kurt asked for perhaps the hundredth time. He was sprawled out on Ryan's bed, texting Mercedes with one hand and scrolling through songs on his iPod with the other. Ryan looked up from where he sat on the floor, his nose buried in homework from his History of Dance class.

"My parents won't be here until dinner-time because of some business thing or other, but Sharpay's flight should be landing in an hour." He looked up from his book long enough to catch Kurt's smirk. "I know you're excited to meet her."

Kurt nodded enthusiastically, pulling his ear-buds out of his ears and stuffing his iPod in his pocket. "She sounds like my kind of person. I wish I had a sister like that." Ryan laughed, shaking his head.

"No, you really _don't_." Kurt didn't seem convinced, but Ryan didn't feel like elaborating. "Just... you'll see when you meet her, okay? I've only been telling you the good parts. She gets on your nerves after a while." He sighed, tossing his homework aside and climbing up on the bed beside Kurt, looking at his phone curiously. "Don't get me wrong, I love her and miss her dearly, but I actually kind of love having all this _freedom_."

He poked Kurt in the ribs, and Kurt pulled himself away from his phone long enough to glare. "She's probably not going to like the fact that we're dating."

"Oh?" Kurt asked quizzically, forgetting about Mercedes's texts for a moment to search Ryan's face for answers. "But I thought you said your family was really supportive of your sexuality? Why won't she like that we're dating?"

Ryan laughed, tugging Kurt closer so that he could cuddle him properly, securely pulling Kurt's body flush against his own. "She won't like that I'm dating you because we made a pact when we were little that we'd never get together with anyone better-looking than ourselves, so we'd always be the stars." His breath was hot on Kurt's ear, and he shivered slightly, smiling at the words being spoken. "I'm pretty darn sure I'm breaking the rule, considering how hot you look in those skinny jeans."

Kurt giggled when Ryan started kissing the back of his neck, and undeniably ticklish spot. "Why, thank you. You're pretty darn hot yourself."

"You know," Ryan murmured, lowering his voice, "We _do_ still have an _hour_ until Sharpay's flight lands." Kurt's breath caught.

"Only an hour?"

* * *

Sharpay Evans was waiting for her brother to pick her up from the airport. _Waiting._ Sharpay Evans never waited for _anything_.

She tapped the toe of her extremely expensive pink shoe distractedly, her phone out and texting. She had expected him to be here, waiting for _her_; if she hadn't suspected that her brother was having a secret relationship in New York _before_, she sure knew _now_. There was no way Ryan would stand her up for just anyone, after all.

"**Where R U?**" she texted quickly, saying the words out loud as she did so and earning herself a few worried looks for passersby. Ryan's reply came almost instantaneously; "**Srry, we'll be there in a sec.**" Sharpay frowned. _We?_ So he _was_ bringing his new boyfriend with him.

She waited for probably the longest time she had ever waited for anything, standing just inside of the airport lobby. When her brother finally arrive, Kurt in tow, she was ecstatic, throwing her arms around her twin in perhaps the most affectionate hug she could muster, her high voice screeching her greeting more loudly than she had intended. They had been apart for nearly three months, after all. Who _wouldn't_ have missed their brother after not seeing him for three months?

* * *

Kurt was rather shocked to see Sharpay. It wasn't that she didn't look quite a lot like her brother, because she did. They had the same shade of blonde hair, the same soft blue eyes, the same high cheekbones and slim, gentle noses. It was what she was _wearing_ that astonished him; she looked exactly like a Barbie doll. Her outfit was made up of several different shades of pink, none of which went together in Kurt's opinion. Her pink leather skirt was too short, and her magenta leggings were atrocious. The soft pink of her heels matched the pink of her ruffled shirt, and she had a hot pink bow in her hair, just over one ear. The whole thing was awful, and he found himself staring as the two greeted each other, both so similar and yet... _not_.

"Kurt, this is Sharpay," Ryan introduced, snapping Kurt out of his fashion-induced delirium. He took the hand that Sharpay offered him daintily, her nose slightly in the air. He felt as though the words _I have money _were radiating from her every pore, and she knew it; though Ryan had never been overly snooty about the fact his family had money, it seemed as if that was something he and Sharpay did not have in common.

"Pleasure," Kurt said meekly, holding his tongue though he desperately wanted to point out her garish ensemble. The outfit was so horrible he could literally feel it melting his brains the longer he looked at it; but he wanted to make a good first-impression on Ryan's family, and insulting their taste was just not the way to do that. (But, oh, how he wanted to!)

She seemed to be holding her emotions in check as well, as she gave him a large, fake smile and politely said, "Likewise." The whole thing seemed unnatural, forced and awkward; Ryan stood nearby, pulling at his lapel nervously.

"Come along, Ryan," Sharpay ordered instinctively after greetings were delivered, falling into their usual routine. Ryan picked up the luggage she had left on the floor (which was also a shade of pink, Kurt noted dully) and fell into step just slightly behind her, as though they had always walked that way, with Sharpay ever-so-slightly taking the lead. And for most of their lives, they had; it was a hard habit to get out of, and Ryan was thankful for his newfound independence as he loaded her suitcase into the back of his Cadillac.

Sharpay had gotten into the driver's seat, and Ryan didn't exactly protest, handing her the keys casually and taking the passenger's seat. Kurt had already climbed into the back and done up his seatbelt, feeling ridiculously like a child while doing so, having slight flashbacks to when his father would drive him to junior high, and he was still too short (according to the little safety sticker on the dash) to sit in front.

The ride to campus was quiet, and when she parked in a spot that wasn't the one Ryan usually took, Kurt was surprised that he didn't protest. The spot she had chosen was in the _sun_, for goodness sake! Ryan never parked anywhere but in the shade, for fear of over-heating his baby. But the male twin seemed not to notice, for once.

"I figured we'd take you on a tour," Ryan told Sharpay as they disembarked, Kurt following slightly behind the pair, feeling distinctly like a third wheel. "My dorm is just down this way..."

There was something wrong with Ryan, Kurt noticed. He seemed to let his sister lead him, though she had no idea where she was going, and was hanging on her every word. His self-confidence had diminished to an all-time low since she had arrived in New York, and that was severely bothering the soprano. This was not the young man he had been falling for! This was an imitation, standing behind his sister in his expensive Italian loafers.

Kurt tugged on Ryan's sleeve, catching his attention. He tried to give the taller boy a look that said, _what the hell are young doing?_ But instead of receiving the message, Ryan just looked confused.

"What's the hold up?" Sharpay demanded, wanting to know why they had stopped. Ryan glanced at her, trying to come up with a suitable answer.

"Um, Kurt just wanted to know... um..." He paused, looking at Kurt for guidance. _Oh, well,_ Kurt thought. He might as well tell the truth.

"I just wanted to know who dresses you," he said as politely as he could, and Sharpay's eyes lit up. She was taking this as a _compliment_, the poor misguided girl. He would _have_ to set her straight. "Because it looks as though the whole Barbie franchise threw up all over your clothes."

Ryan winced and Sharpay's expertly-shaped eyebrows came together in a frowning way, her lips suddenly pursed. "Excuse me?" Kurt decided to be clearer.

"It looks as though someone might have gone a little overboard on the pink. You should really fire that somebody. It's _blinding_ me."

Sharpay cocked her left hip, putting her hand on it and staring at him appraisingly. She then smiled in a way that was slightly less creepy than Rachel hiding in your closet, her teeth gleaming and white just like her brother's, but not nearly as inviting. Kurt resisted the urge to wince, especially at the look Ryan was giving him. He felt as though he had just gone through a test, and had no idea whether he had passed it or not.

"I like him," Sharpay declared, eying him carefully. "He's a little bitchy, but that's what makes him interesting. Good choice, Ryan." She took a step closer to him, her smiling not diminishing in the slightest. It was making Kurt feel queasy. "Why don't you take me to see the campus, _Kurt?_" she asked, hooking her arm through his determinedly and strolling forward, causing him to hastily follow to avoid having his shoulder violently removed from its socket.

Kurt gave Ryan a startled (and maybe a little frightened) glance, but he had this _I told you so_ look on his face that made Kurt feel both disgruntled and nervous. Sharpay was already talking to him about the goings on in her life, as though they had been besties for years, telling him about Zeke's latest recipe disaster. Kurt had no idea who this _Zeke_ guy was and had no desire to learn, though he nodded and smiled as he tuned out her rambling.

Kurt managed to tune her back in when she started talking fashion— she talked as though she had taste, though she dressed as though she had none. He spoke quietly with her as they meandered around the campus, and he pointed out the interesting features and places as they passed. Ryan followed a step behind his sister, looking worried and biting his lip. She turned to him after they got to the auditorium building, her voice shrill when she asked if this was where he would be performing. He said yes.

"Oh, I can't wait," she said, ogling the building a little. "It looks as though this place as good acoustics— look at that ceiling!" Sharpay let go of Kurt's arm (he quickly massaged his shoulder she wasn't looking) and clapped her hands together excitedly. "Mother and Daddy are going to _love_ this place! Did they say when they'd be coming?"

"Their flight lands at seven," Ryan told her, still apprehensive. He wasn't used to his sister acting so friendly to his boyfriends (not that he'd had all that many, but the point is still valid), and it made him weary. "You really think they'll show?"

"Of course," Sharpay dismissed him, waving her hand in the air to show she meant what she was saying. "They promised they'd come, and they'll be here. You always were a worrier." She directed her attention back to Kurt, her smiled large again. "You will be coming to the show, right?"

"My seat is right next to yours," he said, suddenly realising something. "But you won't be wearing _that_ to the open-house, right? Not even a _doll_ can pull off that look." Sharpay shook her head, her curls flying in all directions.

"Of course not. I have a _Dolche & Gabbana_ original waiting in the wings for tonight." She looked at Kurt's outfit, raising one eyebrow and returning her hand to her hip. "Besides, I could ask _you_ the same question. I mean, _really?_ Suede and silk together? What were you _thinking?_"

Kurt looked down at himself, feeling quite insulted. (There was absolutely nothing wrong with his outfit.) He looked back at her, eyebrows raised. "I'll have you know that I have a Marc Jacobs suit laid out on my bed for later. This is just my pick-up-people-from-the-airport outfit." He smirked. "You're not all that important to me, so I didn't feel the need to dress up."

Sharpay's smile got even bigger. "Oh, how self-indulgent of you," she half-sighed, her eyes betraying how much fun she was having teasing him. "You could really be a great addition to our team. You know, I could see you spending the summer with us at our country club." She turned to her brother, suddenly less compassionate. "I like him. You'd better not screw this up."


	16. As Long As I'm Singing

_Not insulted in the slightest, nek0-sama! Hope I kind of fixed it in the last chapter a little? Anyway, glad everyone likes it so far... thank you so much for your wonderful reviews! I love reviews. I could read them all day long. –Sigh–_

* * *

**16: As Long As I'm Singing (Brian Setzer Orchestra)**

Kurt donned his Marc Jacobs suit jacket, straightening the sleeves nervously. Meeting Ryan's parents was probably going to be incredibly awkward, but he had committed himself to being pleasant in front of them, whether they were snobby folks or not. He could only hope that Ryan took after his parents, and Sharpay didn't, for while he very much enjoyed Barbie's company because they were two of a kind, he did not want to make the same impression on Ryan's parents as he had on Ryan's sister. It was just different. He had to behave.

The knock on his door startled him from his thoughts, and he took one last glance the mirror (he was perfect, as always) before crossing the room to answer it. Sharpay stood in the hall, her hands occupied by holding a pocket mirror to her face, looking for any imperfections on her pale skin. (There weren't any.) She snapped it closed and looked at him as she slipped it back into her purse, her eyes appreciative.

"You're right," was the first thing she said, "That is a _nice _suit."

Kurt smiled and modeled it for her, doing a quick spin in the doorway. "It's from Marc Jacobs' new collection, _La Sophisticate_." He paused, admiring her choice of dress as well. "Nice dress, by the way. You have good taste... you know, for a Barbie."

She made a face, but seemed to appreciate the compliment at any rate. She offered him her arm and he took it like a true gentleman, leading her down the hall. Ryan was already backstage, preparing for his New York debut— Kurt could almost see him freaking out about the lack of hats in his scene, or biting his nails over whether or not Peter and Jackson would remember their steps when it mattered.

The short walk to the auditorium was refreshing; the air was cool, but not cold, and a soft breeze gently ruffled his hair. The night was clear, and the moon shone brightly, the soft crescent giving them light to walk by as they made their way down the path. Sharpay sighed, leaning into him, and Kurt smiled. This was nice. Sharpay wasn't all that awful once you got used to her.

The auditorium was packed with parents and student prospects for the following year, as well as critics and casual viewers. Kurt was glad that Ryan had gotten them reserved seats in the second row, giving them an excellent view of the enormous stage. He led Sharpay to their seats, and she took hers daintily, straightening the hem of her dress as she sat. They settled in, the two seats to Kurt's left suspiciously empty; Kurt felt a slight stirring in the pit of his stomach. The Evans _would _show up, right?

"Oh, look, there's Mother," Sharpay said suddenly, looking over her shoulder. Kurt recognised her immediately, even though he'd never met her; the blonde hair and facial features betrayed her relation to the twins. He saw her looking confusedly around the large auditorium, her eyes sweeping the seats as she stood alone in the aisle.

"I'll get her," Kurt said as Sharpay moved to get up, waving his hand to tell her to sit. He scooted out of the row and walked to Mrs. Evans, stopping about a foot from her. "Mrs. Evans?" he asked, and she looked at him. "My name's Kurt Hummel. I'm—"

"Oh! Duckie has told me all about you." She shook his hand in a friendly way, and Kurt automatically got the feeling that Ryan mostly resembled his mother. "And please, call me Derby." She smiled beautifully, her eyes sweeping the room again.

"Our seats are this way," Kurt told her, taking her arm like he had taken her daughter's, leading her gently down the aisle to their reserved seats. Mrs. Evans sat beside Sharpay, and Kurt sat down beside her; the open seat on his other side was not left unnoticed by anyone in their small group, but neither Kurt nor Mrs. Evans seemed to want to mention it. Sharpay, however, was not so quiet.

"Where's Daddy?" Sharpay asked, her smile faltering ever so slightly. Her mother sighed, settling her purse in her lap and getting comfortable before answering.

"Something came up, Kitten. He... asked me to videotape it for him." She took a digital camera from her purse, holding it carefully in her small hands. Sharpay's smile was gone completely, her jaw set in a tight line.

"Business, I'm assuming?"

"I'm sorry, Kitten. He tried to cancel, but there was an emergency in Shanghai—"

Sharpay raised her hand to stop her mother's explanation, shaking her head. "I'm not the one that needs apologising to, and you're not the one who should be apologising. Just smile and watch Ryan perform; I don't think Ry was really expecting him to be here, anyway."

The air seemed tense, and Kurt felt as if he was intruding on a private moment. He knew that the fact that Mr. Evans wasn't attending would not be all that much of a surprise to Ryan, though it would hurt him all the same. He wouldn't show it, he might not even mention it, but it would be a major disappointment. He had gotten his hopes up, and his father had— probably not for the first time— let him down. Kurt sighed and shook his head. All this was very confusing.

Once all the seats were filled (well, most of them; the one beside Kurt remained notably empty), the lights dimmed. Sharpay examined the programme she had been handed at the door, looking up when her brother would be making his appearances, since she hadn't yet seen him perform like Kurt had.

The lights were lowered, and the first skit began. Kurt fidgeted in his seat, straightening his collar and smoothing the front of his jacket. When Ryan walked onto the stage in the second scene, his eyes unconsciously shifted to the second row. Derby and Sharpay gave him sympathetic smiles, their eyes apologising for the empty seat. Ryan seemed not to notice the absence, but that was because he was an excellent actor— his lines were delivered perfectly, but his mind was elsewhere.

The moment he hit that first note, his feet moving into that first step of the music number, he seemed to relax; being in his element, Ryan could no longer worry about the stresses of his life outside of that dance. His feet moved of their own accord, his voice flawlessly hitting the notes he and Kurt had been practicing for so long; who cared if his father couldn't see it? This was his moment. Ryan sung and danced his heart out on that stage. When they last note faded, there was a round of applause; Ryan grinned.

Everything went smoothly after that; even Peter and Jackson stayed true to Ryan's choreography, not missing the step that had gone so wrong in the dress rehearsal. When the entire cast came onto the stage to do their final bows, the crowd was on their feet in a thundering standing ovation.

After the crowd had been thanked for attending by Professor DiBucci, they became swarming mass of bodies toward the exit. Kurt, Sharpay and Mrs. Evans stayed put, letting the back of the room file out before they even got up from their seats, content to wait until there was room to breathe in the aisles.

Ryan approached them quite soon after the performance was done and greeted his mother with a finger-kissing ritual that made Kurt raise his eyebrows; no other eighteen-year-old boy he knew would _ever _do that in public, and it made him admire Ryan more for his bravery.

"You were wonderful, Duckie," Derby told him, hugging her son warmly.

"Yeah, Duck," Sharpay said sarcastically, "Not bad for your first solo gig." By solo, of course, she meant without _her_; but he took the statement at face value, thanking her for the compliment and hugging her.

"So, I'm assuming Father had a good reason for not being here?" Ryan asked his mother, as soon as they were free of the crowd, standing by the stage with a small group of other performers and their parents. Derby patted her son's arm lovingly, shrugging her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Duckie, something—"

"—important came up," he finished for her, his lips pulled into a thin line. "I'm assuming you taped it for him?" Derby nodded, trying offer comfort.

"He really wanted to be here, Duckie. He really tried—"

"He always does," Ryan commented, and not without a touch of bitterness in his voice. Kurt felt helpless, touching Ryan's arm comfortingly. Ryan put his arm around Kurt's shoulders in an attempt at telling Kurt that he was fine. Kurt knew better.

"I'm sure he'll make the next one, Ryan," Sharpay said briskly, her hands fiddling with her clutch. "You know how he is—"

"Excuse me," an unfamiliar voice said from behind them, startling Sharpay into silence. Ryan turned to look at the speaker, who a man in his late forties, with greying dark hair and an expensive-looking Armani suit. His tie looked a little too tight, leaving a red ring around his thick neck, and his eyes were crinkled in the corners with friendly laugh lines. He smiled and Ryan, then looked down at the programme from the show he had in his hands.

"You're, eh, Ryan Evans, right?"

Ryan looked at the man questioningly, raising his eyebrows and removing his arm from around Kurt. "Yes. And you are...?"

"Roman Coppola." He offered his hand to shake, and Ryan took it, shooting his mother a worried glance. "May I, eh, have a word?" Ryan was led away by Mr. Coppola, leaving his sister and mother looking at each other with matching expressions of surprise.

"Coppola," Mrs. Evans said thoughtfully, "He couldn't be related to Francis Ford Coppola, could he?"

"The guy who directed _The Godfather_? No way!" Sharpay craned her neck to look over to where her brother was talking with Mr. Coppola by the stage, his smile growing every second. "Why do you think he wants to talk to Ryan?"

Ryan shook the older man's hand excitedly, accepting a business card before ambling back to his family, his expression a mix of shock and surreal bewilderment. They looked at him expectantly, and Ryan glanced at the business card held loosely in his hand before answering.

"Mr. Coppola came to see his nephew perform. He's directing a movie, and they just lost one their leads to another production," Ryan said slowly, licking his lips and looking at his sister with slightly widened eyes. "He... he wants me to call him, so that I can... schedule an audition."

The eruption that was Sharpay's excited scream could be heard all the way across campus, Kurt would later swear. "Ryan!" she yelled, dropping her clutch in her excitement and bouncing up and down on the balls of her heels. "This is... _amazing_!"


	17. I Want It All

_I'm trying to bring Kurt back to his normal, angst-ridden-yet-adorable-and-bitchy self, but no promises. (Do I _ever_ make promises anymore?)_

* * *

**17: I Want It All (Ashley Tisdale & Lucas Grabeel) **

The fact that Kurt _shouldn't_ be jealous didn't mean that he _wasn't_. Quite soon after he had gotten over the shock of something so spectacular happening to his boyfriend, he felt the nasty tendrils of jealousy creep their way into his chest. The fact that he should be _happy _for Ryan and that he should be completely _overjoyed_ and _proud _of his accomplishment didn't stop his brooding.

Later that evening, Kurt lay curled up on his bed in a pair of flashy red-silk pyjamas, simply fuming over the fact that it hadn't been _him_. It just seemed that once again, he'd gotten the short end of the stick. When a talent scout came to Nationals and saw New Directions perform, _who_ was invited into the cast of a major Broadway musical? Not _Kurt_, no; _Rachel _had stolen the show. When their performance was mentioned in the newspaper, _whose_ solo was given an honourable mention? Not _Kurt's_, of course not; _Artie_ had been commended on his performance and how it brought the audience to the brink of tears.

This time, Kurt hadn't even been given the chance to try; _Jackson_ had gotten a part over him, and the guy danced like he had three left feet, not to mention the fact that he couldn't dress himself any better than Rachel Berry could in high school. Kurt was contented to lie in his miserable heap of misery, silently being angry over things he could not control, but his phone started buzzing on his dresser and he felt compelled to answer it, on the off chance it could be his father. (They rarely got time to speak anymore, because business was booming at _Hummel's Garage_ and he had little free time these days; Kurt hadn't heard from him in a week.)

Ryan's number was the one what appeared on the screen instead, and Kurt felt his heart flutter. He still really, _really _liked Ryan, even though he was supposed to be angry at him. The fact that he hadn't done anything _wrong_, per se, came to mind, and Kurt put on a big fake smile before answering.

"Hey," he said quietly, his tone attempting to be friendly and sweet. He could practically hear Ryan frowning on the other end, and he scowled in response. He had never been as good an actor as he was a singer, and he supposed it showed in his voice.

"_Are you alright, Sweetheart?_" Kurt felt himself resenting the nickname. It made him feel foolish. "_You kind of dashed out of there pretty quick. Are you sick, or something?_"

The genuine worry in Ryan's soft voice made Kurt cringe. He wanted to hate the guy, and there he was being all sweet and caring. Kurt sighed.

"I'm fine, Ry. I have a... headache, I suppose." He rubbed his temples gingerly. He actually _did_kind of feel a headache coming on. "You go on and have fun with Sharpay while she's still here. Didn't she say she wanted to go clubbing?"

Ryan sighed through the phone, and it sounded like static on Kurt's end. "_Yeah, but I won't go if you need me._"

Kurt's eye twitched. "I'm _fine_," he insisted, his resolve shaking slightly under the pressure. "Go have fun with your sister. She's flying out tomorrow, right?"

"_Yeah, she didn't even unpack, really. Are you sure you don't want to come along? It won't be the same without you._" Ryan's voice was comforting and soft, trying to be persuasive. But Kurt really wasn't up to it.

"You think I want to go to a club, with lots of people and loud, tasteless music? No, thank you. I'm just going to go to bed. Talk to you in the morning?"

Ryan sighed again, and reluctantly agreed. "_You might have to wake me up, though; depending on how late Sharpay makes me stay up._" Kurt laughed and wishing him a quick goodnight, not feeling at all better when he hung up. He was a mess, really.

He tried to keep his mind off the fact that he was a failure by vigorously washing his face, planning the next day's fabulous outfit, doing a little online shopping... the kinds of things that usually kept him occupied in times of stress. None of them particularly helped him. He decided, dejectedly, he might as well video-call Mercedes like he had promised, so that they could mope together; he was sure she had her own problems to vent about.

The call didn't go quite as planned. Mercedes had company (Alex, the young man she was seeing, stood awkwardly in the background while she told Kurt that she didn't have much time, because they were studying for some important upcoming test.), and didn't want to talk to him all that much. He bid her good wishes and introduced himself to her boyfriend burdensomely, and then bid her farewell shortly after. He feared he might have interrupted more than just a study session, and he didn't want to take that away from her.

There was a part of Kurt that had always felt inadequate, and that little part of him was now causing him to become whiny and irrational. He decided, quickly, that he had to be happy for Ryan, no matter what. He was going to be there when he auditioned, and if he didn't get the part (the idea seemed oddly appealing, though it really _shouldn't_ have) Kurt would be there, a shoulder to cry on. He would be completely supportive of Ryan, because he would expect the same when he, eventually, ascended to the throne of stardom. Not that he expected anything anytime soon, but he felt as if one day, he _would_ get his chance— and he didn't want to ruin Ryan's for him just because he happened to get it first.

* * *

"Wake up, sleepyhead," Kurt laughed, knocking on Ryan's door with his elbow (because his hands were full) sometime just before noon. "I brought coffee." There was a loud groan from behind the door, and when Ryan appeared, he looked notably disgruntled in his flannel plaid pyjamas and mussed hair, his eyes red-rimmed and watery from sleep.

"Did I hear 'coffee'?" Ryan asked hopefully, and Kurt happily offered him a cup from one of his hands. Ryan took it, taking a second to blow off the steam and then eagerly taking a taste. He smiled contently, ushering Kurt into his dorm room and closing the door behind them. It was quiet, but it was comfortable. Kurt pulled the lid off his cup and took a long drink of his own latté, watching Ryan's face.

"You've got foam on your nose," Ryan commented, and Kurt blushed, reaching up to wipe off the offending sugary substance. Ryan stopped him, leaning down the kiss the foam away. Kurt's eyes fluttered closed on the contact, and he opened them to find Ryan smiling at him lazily, slowly becoming more awake. "You're really pretty when you do that."

Kurt flushed, lightly smacking Ryan's arm. "Am I not _always _pretty?" he asked jokingly, drinking from his latté once more, this time careful not to tilt it too far and get any on his face. He eyed Ryan warily. "Why do I have the feeling you're hung over?"

Ryan chuckled and flopped onto his bed, almost sloshing his coffee down the front of his pyjamas, but managing not to. "Sharpay wanted to celebrate. Apparently, my sister can drink me under the table. Ugh." He took a long drink from his coffee, sighing into the warm liquid before grabbing his pillow and hugging it to his chest. "Apparently, I have very little alcohol tolerance."

Kurt laughed, perching himself on the end of Ryan's bed delicately. "And you have a class in three hours. A _dance _class, might I add." Ryan groaned, and Kurt poked him in the ribs. "Come on, Ryan. You need more coffee, some aspirin and..." He wrinkled his nose. "A really, really long shower."

Ryan lifted his arm and sniffed, wincing. "Ugh. Gross."

"I can smell you from across the room," Kurt told him, his nose still wrinkled in disgust. "Use lots of soap, pretty boy, or I will hunt you down."

"Yes, _mother_," Ryan replied sarcastically, gulping down the last of his coffee and making a face. The sugar had all settled at the bottom.

He gathered the things he would need for a shower while Kurt stood by casually leaning against his vanity. As he was picking out which hat to wear with the outfit he had selected, he decided to make small talk.

"Do you think I should call Coppola?" he asked. Kurt flinched, but remembered his promise to himself. _Be supportive, Kurt_, he told himself, internally sighing.

"I don't see why not," Kurt said slowly, ignoring the pangs of jealousy settling in his stomach. "It's a huge opportunity. Who knows when you'll get a chance like this again?" He put on a smile, looking at Ryan's careful examination of two newsboy caps. "Wear the blue one; it brings out your eyes."

Ryan promptly added the blue hat to his pile of clothing, and then looked at Kurt. "Sharpay is only pretending to be excited, I reckon," he confided, his eyes downcast, "I mean, I know she loves me and all, but she has a major superiority complex, and I figure it's only going to take her a little time to realise that I'm the one who's got an audition and not _her_. We always used to do these kinds of things together... she's going to have trouble coping with the fact that, for maybe the second time in our lives, I'm doing something she _can't_." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Do I really want to do that to her?"

Kurt had never witnessed such an internal conflict before in anyone besides himself. Seeing it second hand was like walking in on an extremely intimate moment; he felt as if he were almost _intruding_ on Ryan's most private thoughts.

"I don't think this is about Sharpay," Kurt reasoned, his hand catching Ryan's arm. "This is about _you_. Do _you_ want to audition for this part? Do _you_ want to be in the spotlight? Forget about your sister for a moment, Ryan. This is _your_ decision."

Ryan nodded, and scooping the pile of things he needed off his bed and holding them to his chest, said, "I just need time to think. A shower sounds like a _really_ good idea right about now."

Kurt nodded. "That's good, because you _reek._"

Ryan stuck out his tongue before leaving his dorm room to go take a long, hot shower. He needed time to think things through. He needed time to _breathe_; everything was happening so fast, he felt like life was trying to suffocate him.

Once he was under the hot spray of water, his thoughts started becoming clearer. He needed this audition. He needed to prove to Kurt, to his mother and to _Sharpay_, that he was good enough, that he could really _do_ this. Because there was a big difference between talking and dreaming about it, and actually making it _happen_.

Content with this realization, Ryan began to sing unconsciously while lathering shampoo through his hair.

"_I want it all. I want it, I want it, I want it. The fame and the fortune and more; I want it all..._"


	18. Perfect

_I _knew_ that watching Glee would give me writer's block! This took twice as long to write as it should have, so I'm sorry about the delay. But yay! Glee is back! Who else is as trapped by the Back 9 as I am?_

* * *

**18: Perfect (Simple Plan)**

Kurt wasn't surprised when Ryan told him he'd called Coppola's representative and scheduled an audition-time. He was the one who encouraged him to, anyway. But it still made him a little sad. And that is sad in itself, because he had to reason to be angry with Ryan for pursuing their shared dream of stardom; Kurt knew he would get there eventually. After all, he did have a wonderful vocal range, dance skills, and impeccable fashion sense. Ryan was just getting his chance a little earlier, and that was no reason for Kurt to be angry.

Ryan was nervously fluttering about his dorm room, while Kurt watched with a raised eyebrow.

"The audition isn't for a week," he reminded Ryan in a voice that sounded a lot like a mother scolding a child. "Relax, Ryan. Let's take calm, _soothing_ breaths." His sarcastic tone did not go over well.

Ryan shot him a look. "Don't bad-mouth my yoga," he said, pouting. "It is really quite helpful, if you'd just give it a chance!"

Kurt shook his head. "If I let you teach me your breathing techniques, will you forget about the audition for a moment?"

Ryan sighed. "Probably not." He took of his hat and ruffled his hair, then rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm freaking out, honestly," he said, his eyes meeting Kurt's and staying there. "I never thought I'd be doing this— at least, not on my _own_. It's just one freaking audition and all of a sudden I'm falling to pieces!" Kurt stood and wrapped his arms around Ryan's stomach, burrowing his nose in his shirt. Ryan relaxed a little at the gesture, but still seemed to be abnormally tense.

"The more you think about it, the slower it will come, and the more you'll freak out. Seriously, Ryan, you have a whole week to prepare," Kurt mumbled into Ryan's chest, his breath tickling his collarbone.

"But that's not nearly enough time!" Ryan protested, his breathing quickening. "I need to begin preparing immediately!"

"If you say so."

"I do say so!" Ryan suddenly grinned, pulling away from Kurt and putting his hat back onto his head, tilting it to its normal jaunty angle.

Kurt sighed. "Why is this so important?" he asked, trying hard not to sound bitter. "It's just one audition. It won't be the end of the world if you don't get the part, Ryan. Your life won't be over."

Ryan frowned. "You really don't _get_ it, do you?" he asked, his shoulders slumping slightly. "If I get this part, Kurt— I'll be proving myself. My dad always tells me that there is no money to be made for a male dancer with acting skills. He's always complaining about how he'll have to support me for my entire life, because there's no room in Hollywood for my particular talents. He's _always_ believed in Sharpay getting what she wants, but never _me_, Kurt. If I get a part in a real movie, get a real _job_ because of my training, maybe... I don't know. Maybe I'll be _worth_ something, you know?"

His lengthy speech had left his breathless, looking at Kurt hopefully. "Kurt, this is my one shot to prove to my dad— and to everyone— that I'm _not _just Sharpay's back-up dancer. It's my one shot."

Kurt nodded, feeling like he understood Ryan a little better now. He reached out and took Ryan's hand, giving it a light squeeze of encouragement. "Okay," he agreed, giving in. "Okay."

* * *

Kurt learned the hard way about Ryan's addiction to practice. Though he'd seen it a little before the open-house performance, it increased ten-fold when it was for an audition. Ryan's face had lit up the minute he received his audition script (by e-mail, the day after he had been scheduled), his immediate response being to read the entire thing, over and over, about fifty times. (It was a good thing it was the weekend and he didn't have class to worry about when this happened.)

Ryan wrangled anyone he could to help him memorise his lines. Both Kurt and Kelsi had been persuaded to help him, and when they were unavailable in the coming days, Ryan managed to get Hélène, of all people, to read the opposing lines. (Not that she understood a word of them, but that wasn't the point.)

His constant mumbling of, "_I seem to have lost all my pencils... Do you have one I could borrow, dude?_" was starting to get on everybody's nerves; but of course, the worst line would probably have to be, "_No, Judith, of course he didn't drink antifreeze! Why would I let him do that?_" It attracted many scares from passers-by when he said it in the hallways, and one girl even asked him frightfully if he needed her to call poison control.

"My name isn't Judith, and this isn't scene twenty-four!" Kurt declared three days before Ryan was set to depart for Los Angeles, his temper finally getting the best of him. "Ryan, just _stop rehearsing_, for a minute!"

Ryan stopped his monologue, his eyes growing wide. "But you said you wanted to help me practice?" he said innocently, removing his hat and holding it to his chest.

"Yeah, well, I don't!" Kurt sighed and wrapped his arms around himself. "This is an intervention, Ryan."

Ryan cocked an eyebrow. "An _intervention_?" he scoffed. "You can't be _serious_."

"Girls!" he called over his shoulder. Hélène and Kelsi, wearing matching expressions of annoyance, walked into the practice room. Kelsi had her hands on her hips, and Hélène hand hers in her pockets; both looked as ready for a fight as Kurt did, who had crossed his arms over his chest.

"It has come to our attention that you are wearing yourself out with all this practicing," Kelsi stated with rehearsed smoothness, her eyes meeting his and glaring defiantly. "You're working even harder than _I was, _Ryan, and that's just not healthy." She sighed, walking up to him a putting a hand on his shoulder. "You're not eating properly, you're skipping your lectures... did you even go to Modern Dance today?"

Ryan hung his head guiltily.

Kelsi nodded, taking her hand of his shoulder and poking him in the chest. "Exactly! You pulled me out of my over-working habit, and now we are doing the same for you. Kurt?"

"You need a day off," he declared, smiling at Kelsi for her wonderful performance. "I was thinking retail therapy— and if you used the word 'antifreeze' once, or call any of us Judith, we will honestly murder you. Right, girls?"

"Right!" Kelsi said, then looked to Hélène, who shrugged.

"_Oui?_" she asked hesitantly, and Kurt nodded encouragingly. "_J'ai voulu dire, 'Oui!' _" she added enthusiastically, once she had to go-ahead.

Ryan's shoulders slumped, and he gave the group a dejected frown. "But I—"

"No buts!" Kurt said, smacking Ryan lightly on the arm for good measure. "We are going shopping, and that is that." He turned to leave the room, and both Kelsi and Hélène turned with him.

"Unless you'd rather sit here by yourself and re-read your lines?" Kelsi asked sarcastically. "Alone, in this lonely, sad practice room..." She looked over her shoulder at him, smirking slightly.

Ryan looked down at the script in his hands. He _did_ already have it memorised, and shopping sounded like a fabulous idea... "What the hell!" he declared, stuffing his script into his bag and reaching out to grab Kurt's hand. "I've got it down anyway, right?"

Kurt sighed. "Ryan, you're _perfect_. You're _always_ perfect. Now let's get to Prada before they close."

Ryan smiled. "Okay. But I call driving."

"Then I call shotgun," Kurt countered, sticking his tongue out at Kelsi and Hélène. "The girls get the back seat."

Kelsi stuck her tongue right back at him; Kurt was rubbing off on her, a little. Hélène followed slowly behind the group, her expression a little confused. Kelsi poked Kurt in the ribs as they excited the building.

"Someone needs to get her a French-English dictionary, stat," she whispered, jerking her head slightly in the direction of the French girl. Kurt glanced at her, smiling.

"Christmas present?"

"Absolutely."


	19. Don't Worry, Be Happy

_Thank everyone so much for your thoughtful reviewing! I love reviews! I adore the amount of support I have gotten for this fanfiction; and I am extremely sad to announce that it's almost over, according to my plot-plan. :(_

_(I may, however, consider writing a sequel. Maybe. If I get an idea for one. No promises.)_

* * *

**19: Don't Worry, Be Happy (Bobby McFerrin)**

As Ryan twisted his hands in his lap anxiously, he silently thanked the lord that their father owned a private jet, and that no one could see him like this. He was alone, wishing he had been able to convince Kurt to come with him to LA (but he had a paper due for one of his classes that even after they pulled an all-nighter was not finished). Then again, did he really want Kurt to see him like this?

He was a mess; his fingers were constantly moving; tapping on the window or the armrest of his seat, fiddling with his hat or his jacket buttons, scratching his neck or rubbing his brow. He was sweating profusely and he felt as if his skin was on fire. He was tapping his foot, mumbling his lines, practicing facial expressions, attempting to make himself cry— he was an excellent actor, of course, but he was starting to doubt himself when he couldn't get his tear ducts to do their job.

"Cry, damn it," he swore quietly to himself, pinching his arm, hard, to cause pain enough to make his eyes water. "My baby brother just drank antifreeze. He's _dying_. Cry, Ryan!"

_Relax, _a little voice in his head (that sounded suspiciously like Kurt) said, _take calm, _soothing_ breaths._

He found himself relaxing on principal, laughing at the sarcasm Kurt had used when saying those particular words. There was nothing wrong with the idea, though— and yoga _had_ helped him through many a stressful situation...

Instinctively, Ryan took Kurt's long-forgotten advice; he went through his weekly yoga class's breathing exercises, and the arm movements they included. It made him feel better.

"_Buckle up, kiddo, we're landin' in ten,_" came the familiar voice of their family pilot over the intercom. Ryan sighed and did up his seatbelt as instructed, silently cursing Kurt for taking up so much of his time over the last few days. First the shopping trip, then the mandatory food and coffee breaks, the requested nightly make-out sessions— which really, Ryan couldn't turn down once Kurt sprung those puppy-dog eyes on him; honestly, who could have resisted those?— and other activities that had taken his time away from practicing the days before his audition.

As the plane landed, bumping along the concrete runway, Ryan realised that he felt exhausted, even though it was only mid-morning, but more importantly, he felt _unprepared_. He had no idea what to expect from a real Hollywood audition; would they tell him flat out whether he got the part or not? Would they send him home with no intention of calling him back, leaving him none the wiser? Or, would they leave him to sweat it out while they deliberated whether he was cut out for the role?

Ryan was in a daze as he got off the plane. He and the pilot, Frankie, went to lunch at a nearby diner; Frankie insisted he looked pale, and that there was plenty of time to grab a bite before his driver would even arrive. There was very little conversation, though Ryan knew that Frankie was only hanging around to keep an eye on him until he turned Ryan over to his driver, a man that the Evans family kept on their payroll for their many trips to the City of Angels.

His driver parked outside the establishment and waited patiently for Ryan to finish his luncheon (and why shouldn't he? Ryan's parents were paying him by the hour) before loading him into the stylish vehicle and whisking him away in the direction of Coppola's Ryan finally thought to turn his phone back on during the car ride, he realised he had three text messages from Kurt asking if they'd landed yet.

He tapped out a quick reply; "**Landed safely, on my way to see Coppola now**"; and waited for Kurt's answering message of, "**Good luck, Ry**" before tucking his phone back into his pocket.

He exited the car and looked at the building in front of him for a long moment. It was a tall structure, with sparkling glass windows that seemed to go on forever; the front garden was immaculately kept, with trimmed bushes lining a walkway to the entrance, and a fountain expelling a thin stream of water from an angel's bow; the entire building expressed an air of importance, and Ryan's breath caught. It was beautiful.

After the momentary shock of actually being there wore off, he looked at his watch. He was a good two hours early, but he had been anxious to get there on time and had hurried. After taking a deep breath to calm himself and adjusting his hat, Ryan strode forward toward the doors of the building with his head held high with purpose and confidence. He was an actor, after all.

* * *

"How was it?" Kurt asked quickly, tapping his fingers on the edge of his desk, trying to keep the worry from his voice. When Ryan had left, he had been in quite a state; his nerves had been so bad that he had become increasingly jittery until he boarded his plane, his arms shaking when he gave Kurt a good-bye hug.

"_It was... amazing. The minute I started reciting my lines, it was like... like the world went away. I didn't forget any of my lines, and I cried like there was no tomorrow! I'm pretty sure I nailed it._"

Kurt chuckled, feeling the tingling of joy begin in his heart. How could he ever have been jealousy of Ryan? His voice solidified how happy he was to have done well in the audition; and, because of that, Kurt was sure that his boyfriend had gotten the part. There was no way anyone could turn Ryan down after he turned on the waterworks, after all.

"Only 'pretty sure'?" Kurt joked, his smile real for once. All the anxiety he had been feeling on Ryan's behalf was slowly ebbing. He heard Ryan sigh heavily into the phone. "Gee, Ryan, I don't know if that'll be good enough..."

"_Fine. I am _positive_ I nailed it,_" Ryan grumbled facetiously, "_Are you happy now?_"

"Yes." His smug tone made Ryan sigh again. "Now, seriously. You didn't faint or throw up on them? I am so proud of you."

"_I'm sort of proud of myself right now._"

"Only 'sort of'?" he joked.

"_Aren't you supposed to be writing a paper?_" Ryan reminded him after a groan at the previously-used humour. "_DiBucci will kill you if it's late you know. He just about tore Jackson a new one when he didn't hand in his dissertation on time._"

Kurt sighed and stared at the screen of his computer, which was open to said unfinished paper. The curser blinked at him tauntingly at the end of the last sentence he'd written. It was like his computer was making fun of him. "I know what I want to say, but the words just aren't coming to me."

"_Well, babe, you'd better figure it out. Frankie says we're due for takeoff in twenty; see you in a couple hours?_"

Kurt sighed again, looking at the clock. "Sure. When you get back we can take a dinner break."

"_Only if you're finished your paper._"

"I hate you."

"_No you don't. I'll call you when I land, sweetheart._"

"Bye, Ryan." Kurt hung up his phone and looked dejectedly at the screen, willing his brain to form the next sentence. It didn't. The task seemed just as insurmountable as it had before, and the words he needed to express what he wanted to say were just as elusive to him.

"He said I couldn't take a dinner break till I was done," Kurt mused out loud, closing his laptop and tucking it protectively under his arm. "He didn't say anything about not taking a _coffee_ break." His feet took him on the familiar journey to _Mocha Rocha_, where he set up his computer on one of their well-worn tables and set back to work. Coffee always made him work better, anyway.

* * *

Later that evening, Ryan found Kurt in the same spot; perched on the edge of his chair, his fingers pounding away at the keys. He had three empty cups beside him, and a manic look in his eyes as he hurriedly finished his work. He had obviously gotten over his writer's block.

"Sweetheart, slow down before you give yourself carpel tunnel," Ryan told him gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. Kurt jumped visibly, looking up for a moment to meet Ryan's eyes before quickly going back to his writing.

"Hold on a sec, I just need to finish this paragraph, and then I'm done..." His fingers typed his closing argument, his eyes set on the screen. "I can't believe I didn't think of this before. Coffee is a Godsend."

Ryan chuckled and ordered himself a latté, sitting down beside Kurt and patiently waiting until the smaller man had finished his paper. After he'd written his final words, he looked across the table at Ryan with unfocussed eyes.

"Hey," he said, softly closing the lid of his laptop (after making sure his work was saved, of course), "I'm assuming that since you did well, they said something positive?" Ryan shrugged, sipping his drink.

"Nah. I just have a good feeling about it. They said they'd call me." He smiled, and Kurt felt his head spin.

"And you aren't freaking out? What's gotten into you? I haven't seen you this calm in weeks."

Ryan shrugged again. "I guess since I got it over with, there's really nothing to be worried about anymore. There's nothing more I can do. Either I get it or I don't. Obviously, I hope I get the part, but if I don't, is the world gonna stop turning? No." He paused to take another long drink from his latté, savouring the rich flavour. "Preparing is the hard part, performing is the easy part, and waiting is just kind of... limbo."

Kurt stared at Ryan, open mouthed. "Who are you and what have you done with _my _boyfriend?" he asked quite seriously, eying the taller man carefully. "Because my boyfriend would never be so..."

"Carefree?"

"Well, yeah."

Ryan laughed, reaching to take Kurt's hand from across the table. "Get used to it, sweetheart. I'm a changed man." He puffed out his chest importantly, rubbing the nails of his free hand across his shirt before inspecting them. Kurt rolled his eyes, but didn't retract his hand from Ryan's gentle grip.

"Yeah, right, and I'm secretly Spiderman in my spare time," he replied sarcastically. Ryan smirked.

"Is it weird that I find the idea of you in spandex really sexy?"

Kurt laughed, standing up and tucking his computer under his arm. "Not at all. I look incredible in spandex." He looked over at Ryan, who quickly put the money for his latté on the table before standing up as well.

"You're going to have to show me, now that you've made a comment like that." Kurt winked.

"Maybe later, but right now, let's go get something to eat. I'm starving." He put a hand on his stomach thoughtfully. "Who knew writing about Shakespeare would work up such an appetite?"


	20. The Futures So Bright I Gota Wear Shades

_Last chapter! Finally! This is the longest fanfiction I have ever written/completed, so thank you everyone for reading it and sticking by me (and nudging me to complete this). All of your reviews have been wonderful, and I am so glad to have such great readers as you!_

* * *

**20: The Future's So Bright I Gotta Wear Shades (Timbuk 3)**

Ryan loved it when Kurt was imperfect. There was nothing sexier than his boyfriend with mussed up hair and kiss-swollen lips set in a delightful pout. Kurt wouldn't have believed him if he said anything about it; the soprano had convinced himself that he wasn't handsome unless his hair was perfectly quaffed and styled in the way that he liked, and would freak out if he was ever out in public with messy hair. He was wrong, of course. He was gorgeous, in Ryan's eyes.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Kurt asked innocently, his blue-green eyes looking into Ryan's questioningly. "It's freaking me out."

"Have I told you how beautiful I think you are today?" Ryan asked coyly, brushing Kurt's bangs across his forehead, his fingers lingering on the side of his face. Kurt blushed, his eyes looking away from Ryan's self consciously. He always had trouble accepting simple compliments like that; Ryan had no idea why, or who had hurt him, but there was definitely some damage there, underneath the perfect surface.

"Because you are probably the most gorgeous, _sinful_ looking creature on the face of this planet," he whispered as he leaned in close to Kurt's ear, so that his breath tickled the sensitive skin. "And I love it." Kurt's blush grew deeper, so much so that Ryan could almost _feel_ the heat from the blood collecting under the smaller man's cheeks.

"Shut up," Kurt said quietly, half-heartedly smacking Ryan's shoulder with an open palm. Ryan just snuggled closer, burrowing his face in the curve of Kurt's neck. He laid a gentle kiss on the pulse point at Kurt's throat, humming with satisfaction at the little noise Kurt made.

"No way," Ryan said, kissing his way slowly up Kurt's neck and along his jaw line. "I refuse to shut up. You are beautiful, Kurt, and I know about a thousand different ways to say it; why can't I go through every single one of them?"

"I can _make_ you shut up, you know," Kurt countered, a determined look in his eyes.

"Oh, yeah? Try, then."

Kurt pulled Ryan's face up from where it was nuzzling his shoulder and captured his lips with his own. Ryan lost himself in the kiss, his hands unconsciously holding Kurt's thin hips a little tighter and pulling him closer. Kurt grinned against the taller man's lips, making a satisfied sound and pulling away. Ryan groaned at the loss, his eyes fluttering open at looking into Kurt's hazily.

"Told you I could shut you up," Kurt concluded matter-of-factly, leaning in and kissing his boyfriend lustily, his hands pushing off Ryan's newsboy cap and tangling in his short blond hair.

Kurt relished the moments of alone-time he got to spend with Ryan, because their busy schedules overlapped constantly, and it was so rare that they both had free time at the same time. Though there had been more time for each other since Ryan's audition was over with (he was no longer constantly in character, practicing for it), every single moment they spent together was still a precious one in Kurt's mind.

The intensity of their kisses increased, and Ryan's grip on Kurt's waist did too— probably leaving bruises from where his fingertips dug into the pale flesh, but Kurt didn't care enough to mention it. The heated occasion was suddenly stopped, though, earning a groan from both participants. Ryan's phone was ringing.

"_Seriously?_" Kurt groaned as Ryan pulled away, getting up and blindly searching the top of his dresser for the shrieking device. Kurt glared at Ryan incredulously as he picked it up, prepared to answer.

"It's probably Sharpay," he explained, wincing as it rung again. "Give me a sec to talk to her, and then we'll go back to what we were doing." He leaned in a pressed a promising kiss against Kurt's lips. "Honest."

Kurt rolled his eyes as Ryan answered the phone, flipping it open and pressing it to his ear. "Hello?" Ryan frowned. "Yes, I am Ryan Evans. Who is this—" He paused and licked his lips, suddenly looking apprehensive. "I see."

Kurt was looking at him, his own frown forming. He sat up slowly just as Ryan sat down, running a hand through his hair. Kurt watched his face as he listened to the caller. Obviously, it wasn't just Sharpay calling to chat. Ryan had this serious look on his face as he listened carefully, holding up one finger to signal Kurt to stay quiet a moment when he opened his mouth to say something.

"I... yes. Absolutely. Thank you," he mumbled, his face still serious and impassive. Kurt could feel his heart sinking. Something was wrong. "I will email you back as soon as I receive the information. Yes. Good-bye." He hung up and stood, carefully placing the phone back onto his dresser.

"Ryan, what's wrong?" Kurt asked quietly, standing up and reaching for Ryan's hand. His fingers were limp as Kurt slipped his own between them, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Who was that?"

Ryan stood stalk still for a moment, a look of shock gracing his normally calm features. He glanced at Kurt, who stood beside him, silently waiting for his answer.

"I'm going to be in a movie," he said, his voice sounding like he was unbelieving of this fact even as he revealed it to Kurt. "The producers loved my audition. They... they're giving me the part, Kurt."

It was Kurt's turn for his eyes to widen, his mouth forming a silent 'oh' at the realisation. Ryan nodded, his grip on Kurt's hand becoming tight as he regained some control over himself. He reached up with his other hand to brush Kurt's bangs off his forehead.

"I did it," he said, his voice growing even quieter. "I'm going to be in a _movie_."

Kurt didn't know what to say. But, for the first time since he'd heard the news about Ryan getting an audition, he felt no resentment at all. He had been holding back twinges of jealousy towards Ryan ever since the open house, but now... The look of pure _joy_ that was filling Ryan's eyes along with tears of happiness was enough to rid Kurt of those feelings completely. He had never felt so proud of anyone before. A thought struck him, and he wrapped his arms around Ryan in a tight hug, tears in his own eyes.

"Ryan," he said, his voice cracking because of the sheer _volume_ of emotion he was feeling. "I... I love you, you know that?" Ryan pulled back from the hug just far enough to crash his lips against Kurt's, kissing the smaller man like he had never kissed anyone before.

"I love you, too," he sobbed, the pressure that had been building up inside him finally bursting like a dam, the tears rolling down his cheeks in waves. "I could _never _have done with without you."

Kurt let Ryan cling to him, almost hysterical. When he imagined Ryan getting the part in this movie, he never expected this kind of reaction. He expected hugging, of course; he was more inclined to believe that Ryan would pick him up and swing him around happily, rather than burst into tears and compress his ribcage in a bone-shattering embrace. Not that he minded all that much. His heart was still beating rather quickly after the _L_-word had been exchanged.

"Thanks, Kurt," Ryan mumbled after a minute or two of happy-tears, wiping his face on his sleeve and leaning in to kiss Kurt again. "You're the best boyfriend a guy could ask for. You know that, right?" He didn't wait for an answer before grabbing him around the waist and pulling him back towards the bed, where they had been happily cuddling before this whole ordeal.

"So, where were we?" he asked with a grin, capturing Kurt's lips again to silence any reply he might have had. Kurt kissed him back eagerly for a moment, then stopped and pulled away. Ryan made a noise of annoyance at the retreat, an adorable look of confusion on his features.

"What—" Kurt put a finger to his lips to silence him, shaking his head.

"We can't celebrate until you tell your _family _about this," Kurt exclaimed, wiggling out from under Ryan's body and sitting up. "Don't you want to see the look on your father's face when he hears that his son is going to be a _star_?" Ryan pouted, reaching out the grab Kurt again, but Kurt dodged his hands and stood, straightening his clothing. "At least call Sharpay. _Please_? For me?"

Ryan heaved a huge sigh, rolling his eyes at Kurt openly to show his annoyance. "I hate you," he said facetiously, getting up and grabbing his phone from the dresser, his eyes never leaving Kurt's. Kurt shook his head, putting his hands on his hips.

"And here I thought you _loved _me," he replied, equally as playfully as Ryan held down the 2 on this phone; Sharpay was on speed dial.

"Oh, be quiet, mood-killer."

His attention shifted when his sister answered his call. "Hey, Sharpay. Listen, I've got good news. You know that audition I had with Coppola? ...Yeah, I got the part." He quickly pulled the phone away from his ear as an ear-splitting Sharpay-screech was emitted from it at such a decibel that Kurt heard it from several paces away. Both of them winced.

"_Happy now?_" Ryan said quietly, putting a hand over the phone so Sharpay couldn't hear him.

"Actually, yes," Kurt said smugly with a nod of his head, and Ryan rolled his eyes again.

"Sharpay, calm down," Ryan said loudly into the phone. Though Kurt could no longer hear what was going on in Albuquerque, he had a feeling she was hyperventilating with excitement over her brother's success. (Or, perhaps, sobbing over the fact it was not _her_ success. He couldn't really be sure.)

"Shar— Sure, I'll get right on that. I promise. Okay. Bye, Sharpay." Ryan tossed the phone down, his mouth forming a huge grin. "Yeah, _right_."

"What's so funny?" Kurt asked, bewildered at Ryan's sudden amusement.

"She asked me to give Coppola her audition tape next time I see him," he laughed, shaking his head. "I'll tell her I did, but I'm not _nearly_ career-suicidal enough to actually do that. I'm on that tape reading her opposing lines— and I _wasn't_ good in it, at all." He chuckled, reaching for his giggling boyfriend again. "Can we resume where we left off now?"

Kurt frowned. "But you haven't told you parents—"

"Kurt, believe me, in an hour, all of New Mexico will know about this. My sister can text forty words per minute, and she's probably sending out mass-texts to everyone I know back home as we speak."

Kurt smiled. "Alright. If you _insist_," he laughed, wasting no time in shoving their lips together, hands fumbling with clothing. A minute later, Kurt came up for air, panting, and looked into Ryan's eyes lovingly. "I love you, Ryan." Ryan grinned and messed up Kurt's hair with one hand, making him look perfectly imperfect again.

"I love you, too."

_Fin._

* * *

_Yes, this is the end! I'm sorry to have to see it go, but this story has officially been completed. Maybe I'll do a sequel to it later, after all of the back nine have aired, but for now, it is done._

_Thank you SO MUCH everyone who has read and reviewed this story. Every review means the world to me. I have very muched enjoyed writing this and hearing you guy's views; again, thank you. I hope to see more in the Ryan/Kurt fandom in the future. Maybe this will inspire some people to write about this couple? I hope so, because I love them. :)_

_~Jessi_


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